Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: What would have happened to Hermione and her friends if she had never heard of the wizard world, and she focused her brains on Muggle science? AU, of course. Please Review.
1. The Nobel

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

_(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with HARRY POTTER. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

_(Author's note: Obviously, this story is set in an alternate Universe; it is not Harry's, and it is not ours either._

**CHAPTER I The Nobel**

Professor Hermione Granger was doing some complex tensor calculations on her laptop when she heard a knock at the door. It was followed by her husband's voice calling "I'll get it, Minnie. Stay where you are."

She knew why Mark was taking precautions. There were very odd things happening in the world today, and it paid to be cautious, even in their little university town. But she felt as protective toward Mark as he did toward her. She decided to wait in the sitting room just off the entrance hall. If Mark was in danger, she would be able to charge in to his defence – though, as she had no training in fighting, it was not clear how much good she could do.

Today, the precautions proved unnecessary. Whatever Mark saw through the peephole apparently satisfied him, and he opened the front door to admit two men, middle-aged, very blond, in business suits. Speaking in a Scandinavian-sounding accent, the taller of the two asked "May we speak with Professor Granger?"

"Minnie, could you come join us?" Mark called out.

Hermione waited a few seconds, to conceal the fact that she had been watching nearby, then walked into the entry hall. There was no fear of danger now, though she felt a little self-conscious over the fact that she was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, while her guests were smartly dressed. Mark ushered everybody into the living room – or, as Hermione still thought of it, the drawing room.

"Professor Granger," said the taller man, "I am Mr. Thorvald, and this is my colleague Mr. Larsen. We are from the Swedish Acadamy—"

"The Nobel people!" Mark said excitedly.

"Yes. Professor Granger, we have come to inform you that you have been offered a share in this year's Nobel Prize for Physics, 'for your correct predictions of the operations of the Flu Force deduced from string theory'."

"Wonderful!" said Mark. He gave his wife a huge hug, while she was still trying to restrain herself and keep a stiff upper lip. "Congratulations, darling!"

"You said a 'share'," Hermione observed. "So there are other winners?"

"Yes. You will be sharing the prize with Dr. Satyavan Ramasita of India, who has also worked on string theory."

"I know him," Hermione said," at least by Email. We exchanged correspondence, trying to determine if our fields of research were related. That's still an open question. He deserves the prize."

"As do you, Minnie! Don't be modest," admonished her husband.

Mr. Larsen drew an electronics pad out of his pocket. "We're trying to put together a bio of you to attach to our official announcement; may we confirm our information?"

"Go ahead," said Hermione.

"_Hermione Jean Granger, born 19 September, 1979 in London England, to William and Margaret Granger, dentists. Attended Clifton College Upper School from 1992 to 1997. Entered Cambridge University in 1997, received the highest honours. In 2001 decided to accept a teaching position at Baconia University in the US –_ why Baconia, may I ask?"

"Frankly, they gave me the best offer," said Hermione. "Salary and immediate tenure."

"Professor Mahadenka, here, liked her thesis, and persuaded the University that she would be a good asset to them," said Mark. "And he was right. The university now has a Nobelist on the faculty."

"Please, Mark, don't brag on me like that."

"You've earned bragging rights, Minnie, and if you're not going to use them, I will."

Mr. Larsen prudently ignored the marital bickering. _"Married Professor Marcus Gold in 2004_ – you, I presume_. No children."_

"No," Hermione said wistfully. They had been trying for years, and had even been to doctors, to no avail. But the bio didn't have to go into all that. Let people think she was too busy with research and had decided to postpone having a baby.

"_In 2005, published her first paper on what she called the 'Flu Force', based purely on mathematical analysis of string theory_ - why Flu Force, may I ask? An acronym? A private joke?"

"I don't really remember now," Hermione hedged. "I think it just popped into my head."

That was the first explicit lie that she had told tonight. The fact was that she had had a very weird dream, with odd-looking people, all with startlingly red hair, throwing what they called "Flu Powder" into fires and disappearing. She had been casting about for a name for her research project and decided that "Flu Force" was as good as anything else. But that was another private matter that didn't have to go into her bio.

"_2008, went through the naturalization process and became an American citizen."_

"Yes."

"_2009, CERN experimentally confirmed the existence of the Flu Force, transporting 3 milligrams of carbon over a distance of a kilometre. This established the theory, although there are technical complications currently preventing the use of the Force on a larger scale, or the development of practical applications. Professor Granger received the Fields Medal for her mathematical work-_ and, off the record, that was when the Nobel Committee, started considering you for the Physics Prize_. 2011, Professor Granger was notified of the prize and accepted the offer _– I assume that you ARE accepting, Professor?"

"Oh yes." Hermione tried not to sound like a child at Christmas.

"Then now, as you Americans say, we can get the ball spinning," said Mr. Thorvald. "Tomorrow, we shall notify President Parkinson that an American has won half of the Physics Prize. Do you mind our notifying Prime Minister Malfoy as well? After all, you grew up in England."

"It's OK." Hermione was not too fond of either the American President or the British Prime Minister, but she might as well be gracious.

"After that we will release the news to the general public. And you and your husband are hereby invited to the Nobel ceremony next month in Stockholm, where you will personally receive the prize from our King!"

. . . . . .

Something woke Hermione up in the middle of the night. She was very tired, not only because of the excitement of the prize-winning but because she had engaged in some very energetic lovemaking with Mark earlier tonight "in celebration of your victory", as Mark put it. Lazily she turned to look at her beloved.

There was a red-headed stranger in bed with her.

"Aaiiiiieeee!" Hermione screamed.

"Minnie! What's wrong?" said Mark's voice. "What happened?"

She looked again. It was Mark lying beside her.

"I – I – I don't know. Nightmare, I suppose—" There were some things you couldn't say even to a beloved and devoted husband – like the possibility that you might have slept with somebody else.

"The excitement of the day, I guess—"

"Maybe. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Hey, no sweat. How many guys can boast that they were woken up by a Nobel Prize winner?"

But as Hermione brooded on it, she wasn't sure it was just a nightmare.

Because she had seen the red-headed bloke before.

TO BE CONTINUED.

_(Author's Note: Baconia University is an imaginary small college that I invented for my JOAN OF ARCADIA fanfics, and decided that I might as well reuse)_

_(Author's Note: I have not researched the actual protocol for notifying Nobel Prize winners. If I am wrong, then just assume it's different in the Alternate Universe.)_


	2. Celebrity

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 2 Celebrity**

Between excitement over her award and anxiety over the nightmare, Hermione got little sleep for the rest of the night. The next morning, Mark suggested that she spend a little more time in bed while he prepared breakfast.

When she finally reached the kitchen, Mark was reading the morning newspaper, looking glum.

"What's the matter?"

"I wanted to see if your prize had already made it into the papers. Instead I found – well, look at the headline."

Hermione looked:

** GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE DAMAGED BY HIGH WINDS**

"I thought the natural disasters had stopped for a while," said Mark.

"Oh, yes," said Hermione with bitter irony. "President Parkinson's supporters would have you believe that when he succeeded to the Presidency, he waved his magic wand and stopped the problems."

"I'm just afraid that the bad news will detract from YOUR news, Minnie."

"It doesn't bother me. I don't want a lot of attention. Though I do want to ring Dad. When we got the news last evening, it was already late night in England and I didn't want to wake him. And this is too important for just an Email."

"Sure, call him now. Don't worry about international charges; you've got prize money coming."

Hermione's Mum had died a few years earlier, but her Dad, now in his late fifties, was still practicing dentistry. She called his office number. It took him away from a patient, but from Dad's perspective the news was worth it. And, as Mark joked, maybe the patient got a kick out of getting his or her teeth fixed by the father of a Nobel Prize winner, like a game of Six Degrees of Separation.

"And in particular, Dad, I wanted to thank you for letting me follow my inclinations, about what to study in school. They used to say maths weren't a girl's subject-"

"I'm sure they won't say it any more, now that they have you to point at, Minnie. But I trusted your instincts."

By the time she got on campus, rumors of her prize had started to spread. Up to now many people at the college had not even heard of Hermione, who tended to keep a low profile. Now she was the most famous person in the University – which wasn't saying much, Baconia being a rather small college.

She and her husband stopped by the administration building to ask for formal leaves of absence, to travel to Stockholm. There was no problem with that, and the administrators even agreed to keep paying their salaries on schedule. Whatever they lost thereby was made up by good publicity for the college.

The administrators also said that they were already getting calls from reporters, saying that they were on their way to Baconia to see the winner. They agreed that Hermione would meet with them as a group around 2:00 PM, in the college theatre. That worried Hermione a little, because she was intimidated by large groups, unless she was lecturing at them. But Mark agreed to stand with her and help deflect awkward questions.

It was a relief that the next person she saw was Professor Mahadenka, who had persuaded the college to hire her years before. To him the day's news was not a surprise, but a vindication.

"My only concern, Minnie, is that you don't simply rest on your laurels, now that you have the prize. You still have decades ahead of you, in which you could produce more –"

"No, I'm not going to sit on any laurels. In fact, I've got some new ideas about the Flu Force that I haven't written up yet."

Her students were also elated when she showed up in class, and did not complain when she insisted on making her scheduled lecture rather than talking about the prize. After all, they could now put "studied under Professor Hermione Granger" on their resumes.

Eventually 2:00 approached, and Hermione headed to the campus audience hall. It was a bizarre-looking building, left over from a more avant-garde era, and its nickname on campus was the Glob Theatre.

The reporters were a motley crew; nobody had had time to set up vetting procedures to check who got in. As a result, questions ranged from sober questions about the science, to the gossipy.

"Professor, how does the Flu Force work?"

"It's a particular arrangement of strings, the fundamental particles of matter. Other configurations produce gravity or the electroweak force; I found a new configuration that rarely occurs spontaneously, and could displace matter over a distance."

"Professor, is it possible that the Flu Force can be used some day to beam people around some day, like STAR TREK?"

"Large objects tend to destabilize under the force; I call it the 'splinching effect'. I certainly wouldn't try riding the bloody thing."

"Professor, were you inspired by STAR TREK?"

"Actually, I think I first got excited by reading a novel called A WRINKLE IN TIME, which predated STAR TREK. The characters could teleport and the writer said it had something to do with advanced physics. Besides, the heroine was a girl maths whiz, which appealed to me."

"Professor, are you friends with Pansy Parkinson? After all, she's from England."

Hermione willed herself not to frown. She disliked when people assumed that all Brits knew each other. Not to mention, she disliked Pansy Parkinson, who was the President's daughter and gave herself airs based purely on that relationship, without trying to accomplish anything on her own. But she did not want to get in a political argument. "No, we're both Englishwomen who happened to move to the USA, and that's where the resemblance ends. I don't know her personally."

"Professor, do you have any theory about why all the natural disasters lately?"

"No. That's meteorology and the like, and I'm a mathematician and physicist."

"Professor, how did you manage to outperform big institutions like MIT, Stanford, or CERN, without huge labs and instruments?"

Hermione was glad for a normal question. "My work relied on a mathematical model, and all I needed for that was a computer and Internet connections. You can find the technology anywhere. Others did the experimental confirmation, including CERN."

Finally the ordeal ended, and Hermione was free to leave. She was tired out, particularly since she hadn't gotten much sleep, and she decided to head home and unwind a bit. She was almost to the campus gate when she heard a British-accented voice say:

"Pardon me – Professor?"

"Yes?" said Hermione. She turned around and found herself looking at a rather odd woman of roughly her own age, definitely too old to be a student. She had rather protruding eyes, and long blonde hair than ran down her back without much organization. She was wearing a one-piece dress that ran almost down to her ankles, with no belt, so that she seemed to be wearing a sack.

"You're the lady who won the Noble Prize, right?"

"The No-BEL," Hermione corrected. How could somebody mispronounce that name? "Yes."

"We need your help! All the disasters – you've got to stop them!"

"They asked about that at the conference. I can't do anything about it. They're all just acts of God."

"It's not God. Quite the contrary. It's the Dark Arts."

"Dark what?" Hermione suddenly got a little worried. Was this woman loony? And more importantly, was she dangerous?

"It's misuse of witchcraft."

"There's no such thing as witchcraft!"

"There is! Look, I'm not supposed to talk about it, but-"

"Then don't," Hermione said, turning around. Then, realizing that this woman might be trouble in the future, she hesitated and decided to get a little information. "Look, what's your name?"

"My name is Luna Lovegood."

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: A WRINKLE IN TIME is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Madeleine L'Engle in 1962. Like the HARRY POTTER novels, it is ostensibly a children's book but also deals with some startlingly adult themes, such as dysfunctional families and misuse of computer technology.) _


	3. The World Turns Upside Down

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 3 The World Turns Upside Down**

By bedtime on the second day, Hermione had fielded hundreds of Emails and dozens of phone calls. Most were benign, though wearying as they multiplied; some just wanted to hobnob with a celebrity, and a few wanted to argue about her scientific theories, even though they knew nothing about maths or physics. She was exhausted, and so Mark made a suggestion just before they got to bed.

Baconia University was in a small college town surrounded by farmland and woods. Some farmers took advantage of the fact to rent out horses to university people might want to go riding in their spare time – mostly girl students. Hermione had no duties the next day and a perfect right to spend it as she wished; why not unwind and go horse riding, and get away from the computers and phones for a few hours? Hermione had learnt to ride as a teenager, but had not gone riding for several years; nevertheless it seemed to be a good idea now. The only catch was that Mark could not ride with her: he had classes to teach, and besides had never learnt how to handle horses.

And so, in the early afternoon the next day, Hermione was riding a gentle horse on a path through the woods. It seemed odd for a woman who had studied how to move particles at light speed to enjoy such as old-fashioned pastime, but she needed peace and quiet.

"Hullo," said a familiar voice behind her.

Hermione turned the horse's head so that she could see who had spoken, and she was not surprised to see that it was Ms. Lovegood. Today she was wearing purple jeans and a frilly yellow blouse; she seemed to have an aversion to wearing normal-looking clothes.

Hermione wondered where on Earth the other had come from. She had just ridden over that ground a few seconds ago, and the woods on either side were quite thick, so it was unlikely that Ms. Lovegood could have hidden there. Maybe she had chased after Hermione, but catching up with a horse, even a slow one, would take some effort, and the other woman didn't look winded at all.

"I need your help," said Ms. Lovegood.

"Need to exorcise some witches? Call 911," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Only a Muggle as clever as you may be able to help."

"Muggle?" Somehow, Hermione felt like it was an insult, even if she was described as a clever Muggle.

"A Muggle is a human who isn't a witch or wizard."

"Oh, that's a very handy word, seeing that most humans fall in that category," said Hermione, but her senses of humour was wearing thin. "THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS WITCHES!"

It occurred to Hermione that, as she was currently the most famous person in town, she might be able to complain to the authorities and get them to lean on Ms. Lovegood and keep her away. But she disliked the idea of exploiting her special fame. Besides there was a much easier way to evade the pest – simply turn and gallop away on her horse.

"But there are! I can show you! I'm not supposed to do this, but–" the woman took a long stick out of her blouse and waved it to the side. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Hermione knew some Latin, but the sentence did not make sense to her – "I'm waiting for the boss?" But to her astonishment, some sort of plasma bubbled up out of the stick, and then, in defiance of the laws of entropy, organized itself into what looked like a large, glowing rabbit.

The odd light spooked Hermione's horse, and what was worse, she was so startled that she made an elementary riding error, pulling back convulsively on the reins. The horse reared up, and Hermione felt herself slipping out of the saddle. If she banged her head on the ground-

"LEVICORPUS!" shouted the other woman.

Suddenly the world turned topsy turvy. The ground that Hermione was about to hit spun around until it was above her head, and then stayed there, as if the particles of her body couldn't figure out whether to fall up or down. She could see, Ms. Lovegood, whose feet were still adhering to the ground, look down at her.

"Sorry – it's the first spell I thought of – probably should have used WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA instead," she said with chagrin. "Good thing that you're wearing trousers."

The disoriented Hermione finally realized what was going on: something was holding her in the air upside down, and the blood was rushing to her head. If she had been wearing a dress instead of riding pants, it might have slipped down and exposed her knickers embarrassingly. That was why Ms. Lovegood was talking about trousers.

"Can you think of a spell to get me down?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm trying – LIBERACORPUS will bring you down too fast—" After a few seconds, she recited some gibberish, and Hermione found herself drifting toward the ground. Raising her hands to protect her head, she rolled to the ground and everything turned normal again. She stared at Ms. Lovegood.

"Um – sorry, again – I'll go fetch your horse back."

Lovegood probably thought Hermione was furious at being hung up. But Hermione was too bewildered to be angry at the moment. Even though the blood was no longer flooding her brain, her head was spinning trying to figure out what was going on.

Ms Lovegood had supernatural powers – the ability to violate the laws of nature, which in Hermione's worldview, could never be violated. Was her entire philosophy of life in question?

A phrase she had once heard from Mark came to her. The British science fiction writer Sir Arthur Clarke had once said "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

Okay. Think of Lovegood as having TECHNOLOGY that could do odd things, harnessing the laws of nature rather than violating them. That made Hermione feel better. It was still troubling that, only days after having won a Nobel Prize for a scientific advance, Hermione had met a women who knew much more.

And Lovegood was frightened of somebody who had even more power than her. That was the truly scary part.

Hermione was no longer going to drive Ms. Lovegood away. She had to find out what was going on.

She heard the clopclop of hooves, and looked up to see Ms. Lovegood leading her horse by the reins, stopping to pat it every minute or so. Hermione's mount now looked thoroughly calm. Ms. Lovegood was obviously familiar with horses. Realizing that it was silly to keep sitting on the ground, Hermione rose to her feet and brushed off her trousers.

"Do you want to get back on?" Ms. Lovegood asked, shifting her position so that Hermione could reach the stirrups.

"No," said Hermione. "Let's return it to the farmer who owns it. We need time to talk, anyway." She thought it would be rude to sit on the horse while Ms Lovegood walked alongside. They started to walk back the way Hermione had come, taking turns holding the horse's reins. "So, you're a witch – sorry, I suppose that's insulting."

"It isn't," said the other. "but we're not supposed to talk to Muggles about it. They may be frightened."

"You mean you're afraid of the Salem witch burnings all over again?"

"They hanged the suspects in Salem, not burnt them alive. But that's the general idea."

Hermione thought that sounded paranoid, but decided not to argue the matter. Consider how harmless minority groups had suffered around the world in the twentieth century – and it sounded like witches might not be harmless. "I'm going to tell my husband, because I don't keep secrets from him. Otherwise I'll keep my mouth shut."

"All right." She didn't seem fazed that another person would be let into the secret.

"But how does the magic work?"

"You point the wand and say or meditate on the appropriate spell."

"But how does it WORK, Ms. Lovegood? How did you override gravity and make me float in the air?"

"I – don't know. They never told me that at Hogwarts. But call me Luna, Professor."

"I'm Hermione." She tried another approach. "How did you get this ability?"

"My parents had it."

"Heredity?"

"I suppose. But sometimes witches give birth to children without the powers – Squibs, we call them." Squib was British slang for a firecracker that failed to go off, which sounded appropriate. "And sometimes Muggles have children with the ability – Muggleborns, we call them." She turned slightly red. "There's a ruder word, but I don't want to say it."

It sounded like heredity, together with some mechanism for turning the crucial genes on and off for life. Hermione wasn't an expert on genetics, and could not consult a real one. The crucial thing was that Hermione would not be able to do the spells herself.

"All right, let's back up. You said you know why there have been so many disasters recently."

"Yes, it's the Dark Lord's people. I don't know what it was like earlier, but about twenty years ago the Dark Lord took over the wizard world. He encouraged wizards and witches to hate Muggles. And he killed my boyfriend, and I never knew why. Well, he wasn't exactly my boyfriend, but I dreamed that he might have been—" she looked anguished at the memory.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, trying to sound consoling. "Um – what was the boy's name?"

"Harry Potter."

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Fantasy and Reality

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 4 Fantasy and Reality**

It was perhaps fortunate that Luna seldom cared what other people thought.

She knew that many wizards, even those who hated the Dark Lord, would be shocked at her notion of trying to make an ally of a Muggle woman. The rule of secrecy long predated the Dark Lord's ascent to power, and presumably would stay in force if they ever got rid of the Dark Lord. Nor could she tell herself that Professor Granger could be oblivated afterward, as was customary when Muggles discovered witch secrets. Oblivation often had side effects, leaving victims confused, and Luna would not dare tamper with a brilliant mind and risk damaging it. She simply had to trust the Professor to keep the secret.

Yet here she was, about to reveal herself to still another Muggle, in the professor's house. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Luna's Patronus, which always took the form of a hare, emerged from the wand and floated around the sitting room for a few seconds before vanishing.

"What IS that?" exclaimed Professor Granger's husband, astonished.

"It's a Patronus," said Luna. "I don't know how to explain it in Muggle terms. It can protect us against certain dangers. And since each witch's Patronus has a different appearance, they can be used to deliver messages, and the receiver can be sure who sent it."

"Its composition is a mystery," said Hermione, "but I think it has lower priority than other mysteries. Luna, you say that the recent 'natural' disasters are the work of evil wizards."

"Yes. Though we expected them to stop after President Parkinson took office."

"Why?"

_Oops. Revelation #3._ "The President's a wizard."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes. I went to school with his daughter."

Pansy had always boasted of being a pureblood, meaning that both parents, the British mother and the American father, were wizards. She seemed more proud of her Dad's pureblood status than the fact that he was the US ambassador to Great Britain. Luna didn't want to get into the matter of purebloods and halfbloods in all that with the Muggles.

"You know Pansy Parkinson?" said Hermione, startled.

"Know her, yes, we - don't get along." That was an extreme understatement. Luna remembered the mean trick Pansy had played on her only a month after Luna arrived at Hogwarts, at age 11. It was one of the crucial days of her life, for good and ill.

Luna had been dismayed that none of the other students seemed to believe in Wrackspurts, Snorkacks, and the other creatures her father had told her about, and indeed seemed to consider her a little dotty. Thus she was relieved when Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin told her a Jubjub Bird had been seen nesting on a small island in Hogwarts' loch. According to Luna's father, Jubjub Birds molted at the end of summer and flew east for the autumn. Luna might be able to collect some feathers from the island and prove at least one of her stories. Students were not allowed out on the lake without permission, so she would have to break a few rules.

That night she sneaked out of Ravenclaw Tower, made her way through the castle, and walked to the edge of the lake. Wizards seldom went swimming, and so Luna had no swimwear in her possession, but that was not at a problem. At home she sometimes went swimming _au naturel_ in the little secluded stream near her house, knowing that she would be visible only from the house itself. Here, she would have the cover of darkness. So she took off her robe, knickers and T-shirt, piled them on the edge of the loch with her wand, and dove into the water.

Five minutes later she reached the island and examined it by moonlight. To her bewilderment there was no sign of the Jubjub bird, not even droppings that would have indicated that it had dwelt here for a time. After a few minutes she realized that she was getting cold – Hogwarts was at a high latitude for somebody in bare, wet skin. Reluctantly she got back in the water and swam back toward the school.

Her clothes and wand were gone.

For a moment she wondered whether the Jubjub Bird had taken her things, rather than the other way around. Then a female voice called out "_Lumos Maxima!"_

A light ignited, revealing Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and several other Slytherin girls. More importantly, it shone on Luna's nude body. The Slytherinas burst out laughing.

"You fell for it!"

"You may be in Ravenclaw, but you're not very smart."

"Maybe she misplaced her brains along with her clothes!"

"Maybe she'll grow some brains when she grows breasts."

Luna was flustered, unable to figure how to stop the embarrassment. Turning around, to avoid seeing the bullies, would have the result of displaying her bare bum to the others, which would be even worse than her current position.

Suddenly a high-pitched male voice rang out. "_Accio_ Luna's Robes. _Accio_ Luna's Wand."

The clothes and wand flew out of the clump of grass where the Slytherinas had hidden them. If it had been daylight and if Luna had not been so flustered, she would have spotted them easily. They fell to the feet of the boy, who turned out to be a small bloke with glasses, looking far less formidable than Millicent Bulstrode. Instead of picking them up, he stepped between the pile and the Slytherinas, with his back to the clothes. She realized that he was deliberately positioning himself to block her from the other girls and avoid seeing her body himself. She slipped behind him and hastily pulled her knickers back on.

"What is going on here?" called another male voice, much deeper and more commanding than the first. Luna quailed. It was Professor Snape, the Potions teacher, the last person that she wanted to see her half-dressed. He was the Head of Slytherin House and liked to intimidate students from other houses, but at the moment he seemed to be furious with everybody.

"I see," he said, though nobody had answered his question. Rumor had it that he could read minds. "Detention for everybody present; I shall devise the exact penalty later. Miss Lovegood, once you are decently covered, come with me."

She followed. "Sir, that boy was just trying to protect me from the bullies—"

"Nevertheless Mr. Potter was out of bed and out of dormitory after hours. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and while I am on the subject, thirty points from Ravenclaw." To be consistent he would have to deduct far more points from his own house, and that could scarcely be helping his mood.

They stopped in the hallway, and Professor Snape turned to her. "I have something very important to say to you, Miss Lovegood, and I am only going to say this once." As usual he spoke very slowly, giving each word tremendous weight. "You must learn the difference between fantasy and reality. The real world can hurt you. The real world can even kill you. Be on your guard. Understand?"

She nodded, too frightened by the somber tone to speak.

"Then return to Ravenclaw Tower."

When she reached the tower, the door asked "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She was too frazzled to think of the answer to the riddle, which meant the door wouldn't let her in. The only other alternative she could think of was making enough noise to rouse some Ravenclaws out of bed, so that they could let her in, and then she would have to explain how stupid she had been tonight. Rejecting that option, Luna sat down outside the door, and started to cry.

"Luna?"

"Uh, sorry?" she said, suddenly remembering that the nude-swimming incident was years ago and that she was now in the Granger house in the US.

"I said," continued Hermione, "that we'll probably be together for a time, while you explain about this witchcraft business. It may even be a good idea for you to accompany us to Stockholm. I'll tell everybody that you're my cousin visiting from England. The accent fits, and few people in the States are familiar with my family. As long as you stay unobtrusive, people won't have reason to check otherwise. OK?"

"OK," said Luna. "I'll try to be unobtrusive."

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Both the Jubjub Bird and the raven/writing desk riddle are from Lewis Carroll's ALICE IN WONDERLAND and were quoted in the recent movie.)_

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The skinny-dipping incident, which is my invention, would have happened during the CHAMBER OF SECRETS year.)_

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The idea that Pansy's father was an American diplomat is my invention for the sake of the story. In the books we learn nothing about her parentage except that she is a pure-blood.)_


	5. A Peculiar Mind

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 5 A Peculiar Mind**

"Darling," Mark said a few days later after he and his wife had gone to bed. "Have you seen signs that our houseguest may not be exactly normal?"

Hermione giggled. "Definitiely."

There had been abundant signs of that during the past few days. Luna, it turned out, was not your usual houseguest. Apparently she had never stayed for an extended period in a "Muggle" house.

She had said she had been warned that wands had a disrupting effect on electronics, and she was afraid of mucking up Hermione's computer. And yet she got nervous when Mark suggested that she avoid the problem by putting her wand away for a while; it was like asking Linus to give up his security blanket. She solved the problem by asking her hosts to set up a cot for her in their basement, where there was little electronics to be disrupted, and she left her wand hidden there when she came upstairs. But she didn't leave behind attitudes acquired over the years.

Everyday bits of technology startled her. "You mean that machine will wash your clothes when you push the button, and you don't have to tell it what to do, or even think at it?"

After Hermione took a bathroom break: "When you pee, your body is getting rid of Floogers, along with the purely physical stuff. That's why it's taboo to talk about urinating in ordinary polite conversation. But I don't think Muggle sewage systems are quite aware of the problem, so the Floogers get back into the environment—"

Over dinner the third day Mark, who taught history, talked about a lecture he was preparing about the Hundred Years War between England and France. Luna tried to provide some helpful information: "After the English took over, some patriotic French witches tried to put curses on the invaders. Unfortunately, it got blamed on poor Joannie—"

Meanwhile Hermione had elaborated her cover story: Luna was "Sunny Smithson", a visiting cousin from England, and she had extended her stay on learning of Hermione's prize. But it looked like overkill, because Luna was frightened of going out of the house. She pointed out that there were a lot of media people in town to cover Hermione's prize-winning. Suppose they happened to take a picture with Luna in it, and it was spotted by somebody who knew Luna, such as Pansy Parkinson? That could endanger her hosts, because her enemies weren't supposed to know that she was even in the US. She refused to go out until she had a disguise. Her method of donning a disguise was weird: she pointed her wand at her own head and uttered a couple of spells. The first turned her dirty-blonde hair brunette, and the second caused all the hair below her neck to fall off. After getting over her shock, Hermione examined the result and suggested that a visit to the hairdresser's was in order this weekend.

After that, other errands suggested themselves. Luna was anxious to pay her way, but unfortunately all her "Muggle money", as she called it, was in euros and British pound notes. Hermione put a bank visit on the list of things to do this weekend. And after seeing her in weird clothes for the third straight day, Hermione decided to take her to a casual-clothes store to get her some ordinary jeans, pretending that they were "American fashions". Luna was puzzled but agreeable: "Do you mean that there is something significant about the colour blue?"

But back to the pillow-talk:

"I don't mean the minor eccentricities, I mean her general attitude," said Mark. "We've seen her do magic tricks. But does that mean we should also buy her story that the "natural disasters" are due to magical sabotage? She could just be paranoid. She told you a boyfriend got murdered, right? That could have sent her off the deep end. Even this stuff about her knowing the President's daughter in school could be a fantasy. And she's unwilling to go into detail about the conspiracy."

"I know. But if I can find out how the magic works, I can determine how plausible the rest of it is."

"How will you do that?"

"Luna herself gave me a clue, when she said that magic interferes with electronics. What that implies to me is that magic interacts with an electromagnetic field. I can try measure that effect, and get some idea if how the magic works."

"Good idea."

"The catch is, I don't have many sophisticated tools for measurement; I've always relied on computer simulations. I may be able to borrow some from the University, saying I want to do some experiments. At the moment they'll probably be willing to accommodate me. And Luna will cooperate if I tell her that I'm working on a way to detect and counteract the saboteur's magic."

Saturday finally rolled around, and they spent the morning on the chores, which turned out to be awkward.

First Hermione took Luna to a Saturday bank and tried to get her money changed.

"I'd be glad to help," said the banker, "but since you don't have a deposit here, there are some security rules. Could I see your passport, Miss Smithson?"

"Passport?" Luna repeated blankly.

The instant Hermione heard the word "passport" she realized that they would have problems, because Luna was using a different name. But apparently she didn't even have a passport, and had somehow gotten into the country without papers. That could be a big problem down the line.

"My cousin left it at home," Hermione said hastily, and backed out. They went to a second bank, and Hermione exchanged the money herself. She didn't have an account there, but the bank recognized her and was willing to accommodate the "local hero".

Next the hairdressers. Realizing that she might be in the public eye a lot, Hermione requested a fancy hairdo, then asked them to fix Luna's "botched haircut". Luna was a little nervous. "What do you do with the hair when you done?"

"Just sweep it up and throw it in the trash."

An older hairdresser, overhearing, remarked that "When I was growing up, some superstitious people got concerned about other people getting their hair trimmings. Afraid of voodoo dolls, apparently."

"Oh, voodoo dolls aren't a problem," said Luna, matter-of-factly. "I'm worried about Poly—" at which she suddenly clammed up. Hermione wasn't sure what she was about to say, but was glad she hadn't finished..

Finally, after lunch, Hermione had time for the experiments. She had planned them out. She had been able to borrow some portable measuring devices without answering awkward questions. They would need a lot of space, and a lot of privacy, and not be near other sources of energy. So Hermione rented a couple of horses from the farmer, and she and Luna rode out to an isolated field, with the instruments in Hermione's saddlebags. As the horses grazed, Hermione asked Luna to do magic while she monitored with the instruments.

The Geiger counter didn't register at all. Nor did an instrument for measuring ionization in the atmosphere. But when she used a ramameter, a recent invention of her fellow prizewinner Satyavan Ramasita, she got a definite response every time Luna used a wand.

Now she was getting somewhere. She had Luna do the tricks at different places so that she could tell how the effect varied with distance. She even asked Luna to get back on her horse and gallop towards and away from her instrument, so she could test for a Doppler effect. She carefully wrote down all her measurements for later entry into her computer.

The ramameter was designed to measure something that Satyavan called the "mana field", which was his own discovery. Today's experiments hinted that the mana field was related to Luna's ability to do magic. How would Dr. Sayavan Ramasita, one of the world's leading physicists, react if he was told that his research was related to witchcraft?

TO BE CONTINUED.


	6. Luna's Lonely Life

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 6 Luna's Lonely Life**

"So it looks like the mana field is related to magic," said the Professor over dinner that night, "though I don't know if it's cause or effect. I think I'll write Ramasita –"

"You're not going to talk about witchcraft, are you?" asked her husband in concern.

"No, of course not. Just ask vague questions about whether he thinks the force can be harnessed. And we could tackle the question from the other end as well. Luna, do you know what the fundamental difference is between, ahem, Muggles and witches that enable the latter to do magic?"

"It was always said to be a matter of blood."

"Blood?"

"Meaning inheriting the ability."

"Oh. Something in the DNA?"

"What's DMA?"

"Hmm." Hermione looked taken aback that Luna didn't know what DMA was, but politely tried to hide it. "Do you know of any medical conditions that interfere with the ability? It might help us localize it to some organ of the body?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a medical examination? That might turn up differences."

"We use healers, they're different from doctors." Luna had always taken the doctor/healer distinction for granted, particularly since wizards were vulnerable to special diseases that didn't seem to hit Muggles, like spattergroit. Now she was wondering whether the avoidance of doctors was intending to cover up something.

She was worried that the Professor might want Luna to get examined by a Muggle doctor looking for her DMA, a possibility that rather scared her. But that would require telling the doctor about witches, and neither the Professor nor her husband knew any doctors well enough to confide that information in them, so they postponed that idea, to Luna's relief.

At the moment, Luna was tired. She had had a busy day, including some stringent horse riding. She took a bath, and retreated to her cot in the basement, where she was free to play with her wand. Though she recognized the decision for what it was: a preference for being alone.

After her mother's death, Luna had basically lived alone with her Dad, until she was old enough to go to Hogwarts. Dad father seldom entertained guests: he had Quibbler customers, not friends.

When she got to Hogwarts, she soon found that the notions she had learnt from her father were not widely shared; that they made her look like an oddball in other people's eyes. Since she did not much care what she looked like to other people, this didn't bother her for a long time.

But the morning after Luna's disastrous quest for the JubJub Bird, Luna looked for the nice boy who had retrieved her clothes for her. Snape had referred to him as "Potter". She heard of Harry Potter, of course, the Boy Who Lived, but she had never spoken to him before. Indeed, the "House" organization of Hogwarts made it very difficult to make a connection with somebody of a different house; Harry belonged to Gryffindor and Luna to Ravenclaw.

With difficulty she managed to draw Harry out of the crowded corridor into an empty schoolroom, and she thanked him.

"You're welcome," he said gruffly. "When I saw some Slytherin girls all banding together to leave the building after hours, I reasoned that they were up to no good, and decided to follow." He wouldn't meet her eyes, and Luna realized the reason: he had seen her in the nude last night, before retrieving her clothes, and didn't want to be reminded.

"Why are you suspicious of Slytherins?"

"Were you here last year?"

"No, this is my first."

"Well, there was a bloke named Draco Malfoy here last year, who kept trying to get me in trouble. Fortunately, he didn't come back this year – his family apparently decided to tutor him privately. But that just left other Slytherins to fill the gap."

Luna had never heard the name Draco Malfoy before. Now she heard it all the time, because he was the youngest Prime Minister in British history.

"Well, thank you for siding with me against them," said Luna. "I'd like for us to be friends."

"No," said Harry. "Rotten things tend to happen to my friends."

"What do you mean?"

"I had a close friend last year, named Ron Weasley. But toward the end of the year he and tried to sneak into a forbidden wing of the school, for reasons that seemed good at the time. We managed to get past a sleepy three-headed watchdog, but then we ran into a man-eating plant, which nearly strangled Ron to death. When we got out, Ron's three older brothers ordered me to stay away from him from now on."

"I'm sorry. What were your good reasons?"

"We thought Professor Snape was trying to steal something valuable that was hidden in the dungeon. It turned out that Snape was innocent. I nearly got expelled, but Dumbledore – he was Headmaster last year – waived the supreme penalty."

"Where is Dumbledore now?"

"Dunno," said Harry morosely. "It seems that he went on a quest this past summer and never came back. So Professor McGonagall was made Headmistress."

In spite of Harry's off-putting behaviour, Luna continued seeking him out, and he seemed to enjoy the attention without admitting it. Evidently he had few other friends.

Toward the end of her first year, Luna carried a warning to Harry.

"Pansy Parkinson is saying horrid things about you – that you have a hero complex because you defeated Voldemort as a baby. Is she still mad at you for interrupting her prank last fall?"

"I don't think it has anything to do with the prank. Something bigger is going on." Harry kept looking around, making sure that no one could overhear them.

"What is it?"

"I think Voldermort has come back to life somehow, and he wants revenge on me."

"What? Maybe I should tell people—"

"No! Luna, I don't want to be rude, but you tend to say odd things. If you tell them that Voldemort is alive again, they'll think it's one more odd thing. It's better for me to keep silent until I find proof."

Harry's opinion mattered to her, and she was distressed that he thought she said odd things. That, plus Snape's advice to be a better judge of illusion and reality, made her more cautious when she returned home for the summer holidays. Seeing her Dad operate his periodical for the first time in nine months, she saw how uncritical he was collecting stories for the Quibbler, about Wrackspurts and the Rotfang Conspiracy to induce tooth decay in vampires. He had nobody vet his information for him; Luna was the only person helping him on the paper. She started to suspect that tales he had told her about Jubjub Birds and Nargles were untrue, though he may have believed them himself.

It was a painful loss of innocence.

In the summer after her second year, Luna found excuses to be away from the house so that she could avoid working on the Quibbler. It was at that point that she learned, from a Muggle instructor, how to ride horses, whose behaviour turned out to be quite different from thestrals. In the process she also learned how to mingle among Muggles, though she could not quite get the hang of dressing like one. After the lessons were over she could still hire a horse and ride alone along the beach, to avoid duties on the paper. Only later did she realize that her plan worsened her tendency to isolate herself. The Professor and her husband were actually the first human beings with whom she felt close.

"Oh, crap," muttered the Nobel laureate the next day, looking at a letter from an ornate envelope. Luna was amused that even Muggle geniuses swore like everybody else.

"What is it?" asked her husband.

"The British government wants to offer me a knighthood, now that the Swedish academy has recognized me."

"Dame Hermione Granger?" He sounded amused saying it.

"Yep."

"That's not constitutional, is it? You're an American citizen, and you can't accept a title."

"Actually knighthoods are considered honors, not titles, and Americans are allowed to receive them. But I don't want it."

"Talking about the constitution will give you a polite excuse to turn it down, anyway."

Hermione nodded. "On the other hand, it would be nice to visit England, on the way to Stockholm. Professor Ramasita has already announced that he is going to England, so I might be able to meet up with him. Luna, you should come along too, except –"

"Is there a problem?"

"I'll definitely want to visit my Dad, and he knows perfectly well that I don't have a cousin my age. I'll have to ask him to go along with the story, without explaining why – that's awkward. But I do want you around when I talk to Ramasita. He may have some ideas about how to detect disturbances of the mana field – in essence, to detect magic."

Luna had started by considering Professor Granger as a powerful intellectual leader, a Muggle Dumbledore. Now she was realizing the secret of Hermione's power, a determination to figure out the "how". At Hogwarts they had never discussed the "how" of wizards doing magic, they just taught the spells. The nearest thing to research took place in an underground complex of the Ministry of Magic, and it was secret. Hopefully Hermione would discover how to counteract the Dark Wizard's power, and in a more subtle way than poor Harry had.

When she got back to the school for third year, she found changes. McGonagall had quarreled with the Ministry of Magic, and had been replaced with a lady named Mafalda Hopkirk, who seemed to be a stickler for "proper behaviour". She seemed to find a lot of fault with Luna, even simple things like her radish earrings.

Meanwhile Luna was being hit by confusing changes – her breasts were growing, and she started having periods. She didn't know any other girls close enough to discuss the changes, though it was obvious that the others were going through the same process. One side effect was that she started getting sexually interested in Harry, though he still seemed pre-occupied with the notion of a revived Voldemort, and valued her mainly as a loyal confidante. He, too, was frustrated with the new Headmistress, but seemed to think she was a front for Voldemort rather than an irritation in her own right.

"I think I've found a way to fight back," he said. "An Auror told me that he thinks Voldemort is responsible for wiping out a family called the Riddles, decades ago, but he was forbidden to follow it up. I'm going to look into it, and see if I can find some secret about Voldemort. It may lead me to other clues. It will be a sort of quest. Maybe I'll even find Dumbledore."

"I'll come with you, Harry."

"No, Luna, this is my battle. There's some sort of bond between me and Voldemort. I nearly killed him once, and I want to finish the job."

"But I owe you so much, Harry. I've learned not to go around saying odd things and making people think I'm cracked."

"Luna – I know this contradicts what I said two years ago – but it may be a good idea for people to think you're cracked. Because then they won't think of you as dangerous. Look up the legend of Hamlet some time. But Luna, please promise that you won't follow me into danger."

"I promise. But if you won't let me follow you, at least—" and for the first time in her life, she embraced him and gave him a kiss, a lingering one.

She never saw Harry again.

TO BE CONTINUED

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Starting next chapter, the focus will be on the "present".)


	7. Tour of London

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

_(Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I was on a business trip and separated from the laptop with my fanfic stories)_

_(Author's Note: I was surprised to find that somebody had posted another story on Fanfiction with the title "Hermione and the Alternate Universe", which predates mine. Sorry about that, whoever wrote that, but I think I'll stick with my title)_

**Chapter 7 Tour of London**

At the customs hall at Gatwick Airport, Hermione was almost dizzy with conflicting emotions.

At the most visceral level, she was delighted to be off the plane. Not only had it been claustrophobic, crossing the Atlantic in a small vehicle, but Hermione had a minor fear of heights as well. She had been careful not to look out the windows, and even so, when she fell asleep, she had a nightmare about riding a dragon as it flew through the skies, in danger of falling off every minute. At some points in the dream the dragon seemed to turn into a flying horse, or rather two different flying horses.

She was also worried about Luna. As she grasped her passport, she belatedly remembered that Luna had none. Was she in danger of being detained by the border authorities? How could Hermione search for witch-related matter without her? Some question of the sort must have occurred to Luna as well, who suddenly headed to a women's loo on the visitors' side of the customs barrier, saying blandly that she would see her friends later.

But Hermione's main attention was on the contrast in her own life. She had left England for the States because opportunity seemed better there. Now she was coming home, having made the most of the opportunities. The Conquering Heroine Returns. Though she wouldn't have the nerve to say that out loud to anybody but Mark.

The customs officials, thank God, treated Hermione and Mark as simply one more pair of travellers coming through, without fawning on the Nobel Prize winner. Perhaps they didn't even know, or maybe they didn't care. They were puzzled by some of the gadgets in her luggage, but showing them her university ID, identifying herself as a science professor, was enough to explain why she might be bringing in odd stuff, and they waved her through.

"Hullo," came a familiar high-pitched voice as they rounded a corner.

Hermione was curious about how Luna had managed to get through the customs barrier with no documents, but after thinking about it, decided it was better if she didn't know, in case she was asked. Especially if the answer involved magic.

Hermione and Mark had of course gotten invitations from various VIPs and pooh-bahs, but had begged off the first day at least. Hermione did not want to be on display while contending with jet lag, and Mark, who had not been to Britain before, deserved some time to adjust. The VIPs had compromised by sending a chauffeur at government expense, apparently to make certain the scientific genius did not get lost in London. Hermione vaguely introduced Luna as a cousin travelling with them, and the chauffeur accepted the fib. So did the hotel when the trio checked in, granting Luna an extra room.

They took a few hours rest to try to give their bodies time to adjust to Greenwich Mean Time. That left a few hours for them to play tourist. Hermione suggested that they focus on two high-brow tourist sites in Central London.

The Tower of London was full of history, having been built by William of Conqueror nearly a thousand years ago, but of course what everybody remembered was the illustrious people who had lost their lives there, legally or illegally: Edward V, his uncle Clarence (drowned in a wine barrel, said legend and Shakespeare), Thomas More, Anne Boleyn… Mark said he was a little disconcerted at the way British tour guides dwelt with relish on their own bloody history. It wasn't something that happened often in the States, he observed, except maybe in Salem. As for Luna, she calmly observed that she knew one of the people who had had his head cut off here, "or almost off, rather. We call him Nearly Headless Nick. But I don't know him that well; he haunted a different tower."

The chauffeur next brought them to the Shakespeare Globe Theatre, the replica of Shakespeare's own theatre from 4 centuries earlier, where they had a fascinating tour of the place. The theatre was letting some acting students perform some scenes upon the famous stage. The students didn't mind being watched by tourists as long as they stayed quiet – indeed, they probably enjoyed the audience. As it turned out, the selections were all from "MacBeth".

First a girl, with a rather low neckline, got up to the front of the stage and declaimed in a hoarse alto voice:

_The raven himself is hoarse  
>That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan<br>Under my battlements. Come, you spirits  
>That tend on mortal thoughts! unsex me here,<br>And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full  
>Of direst cruelty; Come to my woman's breasts,<em>

( She placed her hand upon her considerable cleavage as she said that. Hermione found that funny; she also recalled that in the original performances in Shakespeare's day, Lady MacBeth would have been played by a boy or man, which must have made the "unsexing" scene particularly weird)

_And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,  
>Wherever in your sightless substances<br>You wait on nature's mischief!_

"Whew!" exclaimed Luna. "She reminds me of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Who's Bellatrix Lestrange?" asked Mark.

"You don't want to know," said Luna.

Next came three other girls, who started chanting:

_Double, double toil and trouble;  
>Fire burn, and caldron bubble. <em>

_Fillet of a fenny snake,  
>In the caldron boil and bake;<br>Eye of newt, and toe of frog,  
>Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,<br>Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,  
>Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—<br>For a charm of powerful trouble,  
>Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.<em>

"That sounds like one hell of a potion," commented Luna, impressed. "Professor Snape would love this."_  
><em>

_By the pricking of my thumbs_

_Someone wicked this way comes._

"Hmm, that sends familiar," mused Luna.

The final excerpt was far more impressive. A powerfully built young man entered, but in contrast with his impressive physique was his haggard look and dead eyes. He started declaiming in a deep base voice.

_Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow _

_Creeps in this petty pace from day to day _

_To the last syllable of recorded time_

_And all our yesterdays have lighted fools_

_The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle_

_Life is a walking shadow, a poor player _

_Who struts and frets his way across the stage_

_And then is heard no more. It is a tale _

_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury_

_Signifying Nothing._

"It's magnificent, but what does it mean?" asked Luna, looking awed.

"It's the lament of a tyrant, who spent his life in violence and now wonders if his life has meant anything," Mark explained.

Luna gazed at the retreating actor. "I wonder if the Dark Lord ever felt that way?"

Luna was particularly anxious to go to the site of the former Millennium Bridge, which had collapsed 3 years earlier. She was convinced that the collapse was the work of dark wizards, and she thought Hermione would be able to see clues around it. Hermione doubted that the clues would be that visible, since she did not have her tools with her, but agreed to humour Luna. Her husband wanted to see the ruins anyway.

On the northern bank of the river one of the original supports of the bridge was still standing, though it supported nothing. There was a wreath hanging there, and Hermione also saw a bronze plaque welded to the original metal.

Hermione walked to see the plaque on the memorial. "What the devil? _'Here is the site of a triumph over weak Muggle technology-'_" . The plaque even mis-spelled the word as "teknology".

"What do you mean?" said her husband, bewildered. "It says _'This memorial was put up in commemoration of the 9 people who died in the collapse of the Millenium Bridge on 15 July, 2009' _". The couple turned to look at Luna, as had become their habit whenever anything weird happened.

But Luna was staring back at Hermione, looking astonished. "Merlin's Merde," she muttered. "We gotta go where nobody can see or hear us."

She grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her around the construction to an isolated spot where they weren't in anybody's view. Then the universe seemed to explode around them. Sights, sounds, feelings, even smells all in a jumble. Hermione had the simultaneous sensations of hurtling at a great speed and of hanging motionless. When the universe finally got back in order, Hermione was so disoriented that she lost her balance and fell back on her bum. "What the hell are you doing?"

They were on a patch of grass with the ocean visible in one direction and rolling hills in another, definitely not in London. But Luna was ignoring both Hermione's question and their surroundings. She took out her wand and handed it to Hermione. "Here. Point it that way, and think of something happy, and say 'Expecto Patronum'."

Still sitting on the ground bewildered, Hermione obeyed by rote. A bit of plasma flew off from the wand and organized itself into the form of some small animal – it looked like an otter that had once fascinated Hermione when she visited a beach as a small girl. "What's that-?"

"I don't know, but it's a Patronus," said Luna in awe. "Professor, you're a witch!"

TO BE CONTINUED

_(Author's Note: the incident at the Shakespeare's Globe is based on a visit I once made there, except that the acting students were doing excerpts from ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA instead. I changed it to MACBETH for obvious reasons. Incidentally, the actress who made the dedication speech when the theatre first opened was Zoe Wanamaker, who played the broomstick/Quidditch coach in PHILOSOPHER'S STONE )_

_(Author's Note: the destruction of the Millenium Bridge is from the HALF-BLOOD PRINCE movie and is not in the books. The date I gave is the movie's release date.)_

_(Author's Note: A setting of "Someone Wicked This Way Comes" was used as the theme song of the PRISONER OF AZKABAN movie, which is why Luna would recognize it)_


	8. The Prime Minister and the Muggleborn

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 8 The Prime Minister and the Muggleborn**

Hermione got to her feet shakily. Although that put her on Luna's level, she had a feeling that the other was looming over her. She had just revealed more power than Hermione had known she had.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around at the beach.

"I'd rather not say exactly," said Luna. "It's a private place where we can talk without being overheard. But if you'd rather return to London immediately—"

"No, we need to talk. How did we get here?"

"Apparation. It transports you from one point to another."

"So witches can do that?"

"If they're careful. There's danger of leaving part of yourself behind, and unless somebody's on hand that can glue you back together—"

Hermione shuddered.

"For wizards who want to avoid the risk, the charm can be stored in external objects - Portkeys, and the Floo Network."

"FLOO Network?"

Hermione realized that what Luna was describing – what she had just experienced – was precisely the sort of spatial displacement that she had been researching for several years. But whereas Hermione's work was all theoretical, the witches could actually do it. And the big mystery was –

"You call it the Floo Network. I heard that phrase in a dream, and named my research after it. How did that happen?"

"Since you're a witch-"

"I'm not a witch! You said it was hereditary, and my parents were dentists!"

"But I also pointed out that it doesn't always work. Squibs, and Muggleborn wizards. I don't understand the DMA of it. Probably no wizard does. But what I don't understand is why you weren't detected."

"Detected?"

"A powerful witch I knew had a charm that could detect whenever a witch or wizard was born. She uses it to find students so they can be invited to the School. I don't know why it didn't detect you – is it possible that the School did contact you, and your parents turned them down?"

"I don't know. My mother has died. But she certainly never mentioned such a visit to me. Maybe she thought the school representative was loony- "

Luna winced.

"Sorry, I meant—"

"I know what you mean," said Luna. "I'll contact Mac – um, the witch I mentioned. In the meantime, I suppose we ought to rejoin your husband."

"A witch? Are you sure?" asked a startled Mark, when the trio had finally reached the privacy of their hotel room.

"I'm sure," said Luna before Hermione could answer. "The Dark Wizards have a a charm that can make messages readable only to other wizards, and they used that to set up the horrid sign gloating about destroying the Bridge. Your wife could read it, AND she could produce a Patronus."

"Also," Hermione said slowly. "It seems that I get various flashes of wizardly knowledge, like the words 'Floo Powder'. I suppose they're in my unconscious mind."

KNOCKNOCK.

The three froze, nervous about being interrupted during a very secret conversation. Mark unfroze and answered the door, revealing a man in a ridiculously ornate uniform, holding a large envelope. "Professor Hermione Granger?"

"That's me," said Hermione.

"I have been sent from 10 Downing Street," said the man. "I have been asked to give you this, and await a reply."

Hermione took the envelope. "Could you wait in the lobby while we discuss it? I promise to make an answer in a few minutes." She didn't want him around in case Luna dropped a zinger.

"Very well, ma'am."

Hermione opened the envelope. "Good lord! Mark, you and I are invited to a reception with Prime Minister Malfoy."

"Turn it down!" urged Luna promptly. "He's a Dark Wizard. And he hates Muggleborns."

"I can't just turn down on an invitation from the Prime Minister; what will people think?" She was framing it that way to be polite. The fact of the matter was that she was getting frustrated with depending on Luna for information. She liked Luna, but the woman was definitely eccentric, and in her own profession one was always encouraged to confirm, prove, validate, not to take one source of information on faith. "I think we should accept."

"I agree," said Mark.

Luna turned away.

The invitation was not to 10 Downing Street itself, a combination residence/office, to an address called 12 Grimmauld Place. As the taxi drove up, Hermione tried to size up the house. It was attractive, but looked as if it had been beautified recently: a fresh coat of paint, a railing in front that showed no sign of wear. Perhaps Malfoy had let it decline until he needed it for socializing.

When they went in, a butler ushered them up to the first floor ( Americans would call it the second floor) and called out their names at the door of a drawing room.

"Pleased to meet you, Professor," said the young Prime Minister; Hermione thought it sounded rather perfunctory. "Allow me to introduce some of my fellow Ministers - Marcus Flint, Graham Montague, Clark Urquhat. Oh, and this is Vincent Crabbe, who handles Security."

Crabbe bowed. He was dressed in a dinner jacket, but it did not seem to fit his personality very well; he was big and rough-looking, which might well be positive attributes for a bodyguard.

Hermione and Mark had agreed that, since Hermione was likely to be the center of attention, Mark would be the one to keep his eyes open for clues about whether Malfoy was a wizard, and as sinister as Luna claimed.

Hermione found herself with a group of women who mostly wanted to know about life in the States. Nobody, she noted, asked her questions about her scientific work. It was a rather dismaying sign, that Malfoy had no scientific types in his personal entourage.

The woman drifted off – it seemed natural, but was oddly simultaneous – and Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Pardon me, professor," said Mr. Crabbe in a low voice, or rather a loud voice trying to whisper. "A matter of security has come up, concerning your safety. Could you come with me? I do not wish to create a disturbance."

Hermione turned and followed him quietly. Mark noticed her exit, but she nodded toward him to reassure him that there was no emergency.

She followed Mr. Crabbe up the second floor, and he opened a rather thick door into an unfurnished room which showed none of the elegance of the drawing room.

Somebody grabbed Hermione's arms. She yelled, but the heavy door was now shut and it was likely that nobody could hear her. The captors rotated her around to face Crabbe, who was now regarding her with open hatred.

"Caught you, Mudblood!"

TO BE CONTINUED.


	9. After Math

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 9 After Math**

Hermione went into a panic, and that was what saved her. She free-associated from her current danger to a nightmare she had recently had, and a specific word that had ended the nightmare and left her gasping. She didn't know what it meant, only that it was horrible.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" she yelled.

It worked, the thugs holding her arms loosened their grips slightly, as if shocked, and she wriggled free and charged forward. One of them tried to grab her arm again, but only managed to grasp the fabric of her dress, which tore.

Crabbe was still blocking the way to the door. With an odd sense of déjà vu, Hermione wound up and landed her fist on his nose.

Crabbe doubled up, grabbing at the broken nose, and Hermione pushed past him and out the door.

She was at the top of the flight of stairs. One floor down was the open door to the drawing room, but she didn't dare rush down the stairs in a long evening dress, on which she might trip. Instead she took a deep breath and shouted. "Help! I've been assaulted!"

It got the effect she wanted. People immediately poured out of the door and stood on the landing, looking up. Hermione desperately hoped that at least some of them were innocents, not in on the bizarre plan to kidnap a "Mudblood". What they would see was a woman with a torn dress, displaying an embarrassing amount of breast, and a thuggish man bleeding from a broken nose. It looked like a thwarted rape, and though that wasn't exactly the case, Crabbe was scarcely in a position to explain what really happened.

Malfoy sized up the situation immediately. Though he had probably sicced Crabbe onto Hermione himself, he now realized that he was faced with a huge scandal, an attack on an important visitor by a member of his staff. Damage control was far more important than indulging his odd hatred of "Muggleborns". "Arrest Mr. Crabbe!" he decreed, to Crabbe's own subordinates.

Meanwhile a horrified Mark rushed up the stairs, probably intending to strangle Crabbe. Hermione blocked his way; she realized that, at close quarters, somebody might secretly curse him. "No, Mark, let the British take care of it. Just get me out of here." She hated sounding like a terrified girl, but it was crucial to get them out of a place where she couldn't tell the level of danger. Mark obeyed, taking off his coat and draping it around his wife's arms to hide the breasts. They proceeded down the stairs. As they passed the first floor, the Prime Minister was saying, "My deepest apologies, Professor, for the incident, and you can be sure that I will get to the bottom of—"

"Thank you," said Hermione blandly, though what was she was actually tempted to say was something more on the order of _"Screw you."_ Malfoy was contemptible; not only ordering the harassment of his guest, but blaming it on his henchman when it failed.

Some guests followed them and stood on the doorstep as Hermione and her husband walked out upon the pavement. Were the Malfoy's allies, scheming to zap them, or innocents, anxious to see that they were all right? Apparently the latter, since in fact no attack happened. In fact, one hailed a taxi for them. By that time Hermione had managed to whisper to her husband the true nature of the attack.

"American Embassy," Mark told the taxi driver.

"The Embassy?" Hermione echoed in surprise.

"We need firepower," he said.

As they got in the cab, Hermione wondered briefly if they were stepping into a trap. Were the guest and taxi in the scheme with Malfoy? But there was a limit to paranoia, because, in retrospect, the attack on Hermione had been amazingly clumsy. Crabbe and his minions had let themselves be demoralized by a curse and a punch on the nose. They had failed to lock the door behind them. They had taken Hermione a minimal distance away before threatening her. Hermione could not imagine a professional security man being so inept, and it implied that Crabbe's appointment had been based on a connection with Malfoy rather than merit.

But if it was crude power, it was still power. Malfoy was Prime Minister, and he was also a high-ranking figure in a shadow-society of witches, who might have their own way of attacking an enemy. Hermione's main defense was that she was a figure in the limelight, that an attack on her would draw a lot of attention to people who wanted to stay out of sight. They did need more firepower.

Could the American Embassy be trusted? According to Luna, the President's family were also wizards, and they might have sent instructions to trap Hermione. But she decided against that. The American government had had years to attack Hermione, if they were interested in doing so, and yet they had left her alone. Either they didn't know Hermione was a witch, or they didn't care. From the Embassy's point of view, Hermione was an innocent American national whom they were obligated to help.

The name on Hermione's passport got them in the Embassy; of course they knew that a Nobel Laureate from their own nation was visiting England. Mark took care of negotiations from there, on the pretext that Hermione was embarrassed about her torn dress. Hermione was indeed embarrassed, but for a different reason. Luna had given her a clear warning of danger, and yet Hermione had walked right into it. When they left her in a room to relax, she brooded on her folly.

More than two thousand years ago, the philosopher Plato had observed that mathematics represent a sort of ideal world, free of human messiness. You didn't have to worry about a theorem lying to you, or a number trying to stab you in the back. It was a philosophy congenial to Hermione, whose life had been remarkably free of trouble. Except for nearly being thrown from her horse several weeks earlier, her life had been remarkably free from danger too, and her sense of caution was low. Now she was likely to err on the side of paranoia.

Mark came back. "What did they say?" asked Hermione, a little worried by the look on Mark's face.

"It's complicated," Mark said, sighing. "The story of the Prime Minister's bodyguard attacking a female guest sounded rather incredible, particularly since I couldn't explain the real reason for the attack. Plus, the Embassy can't take much action; they're supposed to rely on the host country to handle crime and punishment. But on the other hand, you're you, and they can't just dismiss your story out of hand. So they're playing it safe, and assigning us a bodyguard of our own, plus writing a polite note to the Prime Minister than any harm to you might cause a diplomatic incident."

A bodyguard, recommended by the Embassy, might be effective in ordinary situations. But what if the other side used magic? Then Hermione and her husband would have to rely on Luna's power – or that of Hermione herself.

Hermione and her husband slept late the next morning, tired out from the stresses of the previous night. They were awakened by their cell phone, with a call from their bodyguard.

"Pardon me, Professor. But a woman named Sunny Smithson says she needs to see you."

Luna's alias. "Yes, let her by – and that will apply whenever she comes."

They admitted Luna a few minutes later. The instant the door was closed and they had privacy, Hermione poured out her feelings.

"Luna, I'm sorry. You were right all along, and I should have listened to you. Can you forgive me?"

"Oh, yes," Luna said in a surprisingly chipper voice. "You'd be surprised how often people don't take me seriously. Or maybe not."

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Godric's Hollow Again

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 10 Godric's Hollow Again**

There were several reasons why Luna was willing to forgive the Professor readily.

One was that the Professor was a Muggle, or rather, a witch who had been brought up as a Muggle. Luna had been taught to make allowances for odd behavior from Muggles. But there were deeper reasons.

Harry Potter had taught Luna two almost contradictory things: to try to distinguish illusion from reality, but at the same time, that it was safer to stick to the Loonie Lovegood persona, the daft girl. Harry himself could not help attracting Voldemort's attention: simply surviving the death spell as a baby guaranteed that. But Luna was different. People would not pay attention to her unless she attracted it.

After finishing at Hogwarts, Luna had gotten a job as a salesgirl in Diagon Alley. She took care to mention Wrackspurts and Nargles every once in a while, not enough to drive her employers up the wall, but enough to appear like a harmless eccentric. But it was wearing. Few people would want to befriend an oddball, and those that did, did not know the real Luna. She was starved for true friendship.

At one point she had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and let them know her true character. She became a go-between; an Order member would slip some item to her while patronizing her shop, and she would pass it to another customer who came several days later. This persisted for some time until the Voldemort-supported Ministry of Magic suddenly went into action and a number of her contacts were captured. She was careful to appear very daft for the next several weeks, knowing that some customers were Ministry or Death-Eaters come to check on her. Apparently she convinced them, because she was never arrested or even questioned herself. But it did drive her into greater caution and secrecy, and she no longer confided in others.

Professor Granger was not just a co-conspirator, but a potential friend. Luna did not want to jeopardize that.

And Luna did need her AS a co-conspirator; she had no idea what the rest of the Order was doing now, but in Luna's view the Professor was her best chance of fighting Voldemort. Luna had at first thought the Professor could build some sort of weapon with Muggle technology. Now the Professor was doing something more important: trying to work out the sources of magical power.

And so she assured Hermione of forgiveness, and they sat down to discuss other matters. Hermione was still in pyjamas, though her husband was more modest, and went into the loo to change into day clothes.

"What I don't understand," he said after coming out," is: how did they know Hermione was a witch? Can wizards recognize each other? Please excuse me if the question is offensive."

"Usually the question doesn't come up," said Luna. "If someone is wearing robes and carrying a wand, obviously she's a witch. But if she's trying to look like a Muggle, and doesn't muck it up - hmmm. There are certain spells that can affect witches and Muggles differently, like the double plaques on the Millenium Bridge. By watching their reactions, you can deduce whether they are wizards or Muggles."

"I don't think the Prime Minister tried anything like that," said Hermione thoughtfully. "And I think they knew I was a witch before I arrived."

"Let me think some more. There's McGonagall's book, the one that writes down whenever a witch or wizard is born. Presumably there's a powerful wizard-detection charm behind that, but McGonagall never explained that. And once it became clear that people who hate Muggleborns had taken over the Ministry for Magic, she must have hidden it away very carefully, perhaps with a Secret-Keeper Spell."

"I don't know what a Secret-Keeper Spell is," said Hermione, "but is it possible that somebody saw my name in the book before she hid it?"

"I don't know," said Luna. "But I could ask."

The next day-

Godric's Hollow was a small village by Muggle standards, but a large number of wizards had made it their home at some point or other. Godric Griffindor himself. Ignotus Peverell, supposedly the model for the surviving brother in the TALE OF THE THREE BROTHERS. Bathilda Bagshot, the historian, lived here, and so did the Dumbledore family for a while. It was here that Voldemort accidently put a curse on himself while trying to murder Harry Potter. Most recently, Minerva McGonagall had settled here after losing her post at Hogwarts. Bathilda had chosen McGonagall to continue HOGWARTS, A HISTORY up to the present day, and had invited her to move in with her so that they could go over her records together. When Bathilda finally died, she left her house to McGonagall.

But when McGonagall answered the door, Luna was shocked by how old and worn she looked. She had already been elderly when Luna attended school, and that was fifteen years ago. From McGonagall's point of view, even more than Luna's, those fifteen years must have been horrifying, as the Voldemort regime warred against the culture that McGonagall had upheld for decades.

"Yes?" asked the old woman.

"Professor, I'm Luna Lovegood, of the class of 1999. You probably don't recognize me, because I've dyed my hair recently." That was being polite; it was possible that the old woman would not recognize Luna at all. "I've got a question about another student. May I come in?"

McGonagall peered at Luna, probably trying to determine whether Luna was a Death-Eater or not. Luna was carefully to put on her harmless-eccentric expression, and the other finally stood aside and let her in.

After McGonagall had fixed tea for her guest and herself, Luna started to explain her case. "Professor, have you heard of Hermione Granger?"

"Kranger? I don't think I know the name. Was she a student at Hogwarts?"

Luna tried to hide her shock, that the other had ceased to keep track of Muggle news. "Well, that's the question. I've confirmed that she is a witch, but she doesn't think that she was ever sent an invitation to Hogwarts. Do you know whether she was on the list?"

"I am forbidden to discuss the list."

"I understand. But can you tell me if an invitation was sent? It would have been in 1991." Luna decided not to pursue the possibility of a stolen list; it might frighten the other if she thought Voldemort's people were involved.

"I don't remember individual names from 20 years ago. But I can look."

McGonagall went to a large cabinet in the corner of the sitting room, and unlocked it with a wave of her wand. Inside were numerous scrolls, probably one or more per year, and she rummaged through them for the proper time period.

Luna didn't know whether this was a red herring or not. But it struck her that the fate of Hermione's education was an important question. Who knew? If a brilliant thinker like Hermione had come to Hogwarts, and joined Harry's circle, was it possible that they could have defeated Voldemort years ago?

TO BE CONTINUED.


	11. Father and Daughter

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 11 FATHER AND DAUGHTER**

"Here we are at my father's house," Hermione said to her bodyguard. "Please stay out here; I don't need protection against my Dad. But don't let anybody else by except my husband and Miss Lovegood."

"You mean Miss Smithson?"

"Ulp, yes—"

"Don't worry, Professor, I already guessed about her names."

Hermione turned toward the front door of her house, but still felt guilty. The bodyguard was dependable, against ordinary adversaries. But a witch or wizard could simply zap him with a curse, and Hermione couldn't even warn him about it.

She walked up to the front door and knocked; it felt odd doing so at a house that had been her own for more than half of her lifetime. The door opened to reveal her father.

"Minnie! Please come in."

Actually Hermione disliked being called Minnie, which to her sounded like something out of Mickey Mouse. But she wasn't going to ruin the greeting by complaining about that. She hugged and kissed her father, then he drew her into the drawing room.

"Minnie, I'm so proud of you, to have won the Prize."

"You and Mum should be proud of yourselves, Dad, for supporting me when I wanted to go into maths. At the time, people said maths wasn't a field for girls."

He frowned. "It's too bad your Mum didn't live to see this."

"Um, Dad, that reminds me." It was an abrupt change of subject, but her Dad would think she was deliberately changing it to lighten that mood. "Back when I was ten or eleven, did somebody visit you, saying that they were from another school and they wanted me as a student?"

He looked puzzled. "No, nothing like that happened."

"Could they have talked to Mum?"

"She would have told me, if it affected something as important as your education. Why do you ask, Minnie?"

"I learnt recently that another school tried to contact me."

"Probably just wanted to boast that they NEARLY got a Nobelist. I wouldn't worry, Minnie. You followed the right path, right?"

"Certainly, Dad."

"In turn, there's something I must ask you. I hate to spoil a happy moment, but there's something I must know." He turned to a low table, and picked up a tabloid newspaper. Hermione knew that normally her father did not read tabloids, so she guessed what this was about before she even saw the headline: NOBELIST ASSAULTED BY PM'S BODYGUARD.

"Is it true? Or is it just a rag making up a sensational story?"

"It's hard to explain," said Hermione, flustered_. I can't just say, Dad, I'm a witch. _"It wasn't a sexual assault, but yes, something happened. I have two people protecting me now. One's just outside, and he was supplied by the American Embassy. The other is a woman, who's likely to come by in the next hour. And, by the way, the woman's pretending to be a cousin. Please don't give her away."

Her father groaned. "This sounds like that American movie, A BEAUTIFUL MIND."

Hermione got the reference. The movie was about a real-life mathematician who had suffered a nervous breakdown after doing brilliant economic work. Eventually he recovered enough to receive the Nobel Prize. Naturally her father would see parallels.

"I haven't gone crackers, like the bloke in the movie."

"And yet you can't tell me anything."

"Not yet," she said, frustrated.

"Tell me this, at least. You aren't letting yourself be used by the Opposition, are you?"

"Opposition?"

"You may not hear of it much in the States, but Malfoy's party is not very popular in many quarters. Some are amazed that they won the elections. This scandal is a powerful gift to the other side."

Hermione had a sudden horrid suspicion. _Amazed that they won the election._ Suppose that wizards had used magic to distort the counting of votes? Ordinary election safeguards would not take magic cheating into account. Malfoy's party could be losers, running Great Britain by fraud. Then a worse thought occurred to her. What if Parkinson's wizards had pulled the same trick in the last US Presidential election, and Parkinson was not a legitimate winner either? Had the Dark Wizards taken over two of the leading nations of the English-speaking world, by trickery?

And Hermione could not say a thing about it. The last time a British official had tried to claim "We lost by witchcraft" was the Middle Ages – the trial of Joan of Arc. Try to say THAT, and people really would start talking about A BEAUTIFUL MIND and crazy Nobel Prize winners.

"Minnie?"

"No, I'm not working for the Opposition, Dad. I don't want to get involved in dirty politics_." Not Muggle politics anyway. But I seem to be getting involved in "Politics by other Means". _

DINGDONG.

"Let me get that, Dad."

It was Luna at the door. Hermione brought her to the dining room. "Luna, this is my father, Mr. Granger. Dad, this is Luna, the woman who's protecting me."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Luna. "You must have been a great help to your daughter, to put her onto the path to genius."

Hermione stared. She had never heard Luna speak with that much solemnity before. Nor did she think Luna was being grossly insincere; Luna never flattered. Apparently she genuinely respected Hermione's Dad. It made Hermione wonder if Luna had issues with her own parents.

"Professor, I have found out something important," Luna added, turning to Hermione. "Can we talk privately?"

"Er, Dad?"

"If it regards your safety, Minnie, by all means. You two can use the kitchen for privacy."

Hermione led Luna into the kitchen, annoyed. Her conversation with her Dad was getting painful enough without Luna butting in. If this was one of her eccentricities- "What is it?"

"I saw McGonagall. She's too old to remember it directly, but her scroll says she came to visit your parents in early 1990 to explain about wizards and offer you admission at our school. They turned her down."

"Bollocks." Hermione rarely used rude language, but she was getting really ticked off. "I just asked Dad the same question, and he said nobody came."

Luna bit her lip.

"Do you know something I don't, Luna?"

With obvious reluctance, Luna said: "Well, if your parents turned McGonagall down, and she was afraid that they might tell somebody else about witches, she might have used an Oblivate spell."

"Obliviate?" Hermione could interpret the word from her knowledge of Latin: the imperative plural of the word "to forget". Ordering a group of people to forget something. "Luna, are you saying that somebody tried to tamper with my parents' memories? That's horrible!"

Hermione's cell phone rang. D F E D A G# E. She glared at it. It was a text message from her husband.

"GOT CALL FOR U FROM RAMASITA. SAYS: WE NEED TO TALK."

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. All Knowledge as My Province

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 12 All Knowledge as My Province**

When she got back to their hotel room in London, her husband was staring at his laptop.

"I'm trying to re-interpret history in light of what Luna has been telling us," he said. "For example, she said wizards voted in the 1690s to go permanently underground, rather than trying to co-exist with Muggles. And in doing so, they may have done science a huge favour, without realizing it."

"How do you figure that?" To Hermione at the moment, the decision to keep their existence secret had led to tampering with her parents' memories, which enraged her. But she had not had a chance to tell Mark that side of the story yet.

"That era was the beginning of the Scientific Revolution. Great thinkers like Descartes, Newton, and Leibniz, who thought there was a rational explanation for all phenomena, and that mankind should try to find it. They dismissed talk of witchcraft as medieval superstition. If they had known the witchcraft was for real, it would have diverted their research in a different direction – or else the witches may have been tempted to sabotage the research. Either way, the Scientific Revolution could have been ruined, a great setback for humanity."

"Do you think I should refrain from investigating magic?"

"No, because according to Luna, circumstances have changed. Along with keeping their existence secret, the wizards also pledged not to exploit the secrecy to victimize Muggles. Now they're breaking the pledge, and so we have to find out how their magic works, in our defense. Besides, the scientific way of thinking is thoroughly established now; it's not going to be endangered by investigating witchcraft."

Hermione nodded. "I wonder if Ramasita has discovered the same thing we have – that his scientific phenomena may be magic by another name. Did he say why he wanted to meet with me?"

"No – just that it was important to talk face-to-face, not by phone or Email. I went ahead and invited him to come tomorrow evening."

"Good. In the meantime, there are things I need to tell you—"

0 0 0

The next evening, Professor Ramasita arrived promptly at 7:00. He seemed to exude intellectual power, but was also a pleasant person to talk to. Over dinner, he and Hermione exchanged shop talk about strings and M-branes and Grand Unified Theories, while Mark tried not to seem bored. Finally, the visitor got more businesslike.

"I've received an invitation from CERN, to do research there after receiving the award. They're planning to send you an invitation as well, Professor. I thought this would be a golden opportunity to test the possible connections between our theories."

CERN! The center of European physics research, with atom-smashers more smashing than anywhere else in the world, including the US. The exciting prospect of doing research there nearly drove Hermione's other concerns out of her mind. "I think that would be an excellent idea."

"Then starting tomorrow, we should work out a line of experiment, then contact the institute to see whether it is feasible there."

"Yes, I have some ideas already—"

"Pardon me, Professor Ramasita," said Mark diffidently. "But is there something else that we need to discuss now? You implied that there was something that could only be discussed face-to-face. In the excitement of discussing CERN, I didn't want to lose the opportunity-"

"Ah, yes," said Professor Ramasita, visibly deflating. "There is a matter of scientific ethics, on which I want your advice, Professor."

Realizing belatedly that he may have intervened rudely, Mark said, "Then let me fix some drinks, and we can talk in the living room."

He ordered drinks from room service, and they settled down on couches and sofas to hear the Indian physicist's story.

"I started my research almost 10 years ago. At the time I wasn't sure whether I was on the right path, or a wild goose chase, and I wanted to confirm my ideas with experiment. Unfortunately I did not have access to the labs that you did, Professor Granger, much less the facilities in CERN, so I had to do sensitive experiments with existing supplies. I didn't have much luck, until I took on a certain lab assistant."

"Why? What did he do?"

"It was a she, and you've hit on the problem – I don't know WHAT she did. All I know was that experiments started working once SHE started working."

"When it became time for me to announce results, I told her that I wanted to give her credit for helping me. To my surprise, she went into a panic. She said she didn't want her role to be mentioned. In fact, she made me swear not to reveal her name in connection with my work. The next day she disappeared, and I never saw her again."

"And so your experiments stopped working?" asked Mark.

"I was finished with the experiments; they had confirmed my theoretical work, and could stick to theory from then on. But still, I'd like to give credit where it's due. Who would have guessed a Nobel Prize was involved when I made my oath to Pa—" he hastily caught himself.

"Her name starts with 'Pah'?" asked Hermione.

"That slipped out," Ramasita said. "But I've sworn not to repeat her name."

Hermione thought. _Patricia? No, not bloody likely for a girl in India. Pah, Pah—_

"Padme?"

Ramasita stared. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. I remembered that there was a Princess Padme in STAR WARS and knew that it was an Indian name, so I tried it."

"Well," Ramasita said ruefully, "if you can trick me into revealing her last name as well, then YOU can announce it and I won't have broken my oath."

"Perhaps she is hiding for good reason," observed Mark, "and revealing her name might hurt her."

Hermione looked at her husband, and she could tell that they were both thinking the same thing. They already knew one woman who was anxious to conceal her identity: Luna. It was because Luna was a witch who had made enemies of the people running the witch society. Suppose Padme was in the same situation?

Hermione already knew that there was a link between witchcraft and the phenomena she was studying. What if the same was true with Ramasita's line of research, though he didn't know it? So a witch made friends with a Muggle scientist and helped him get his research going in the right direction. There was noble of her, but the dark witches would probably consider her a traitor, giving secrets and power to Muggles. Luna might know who she was. If Ramasita announced that a girl named Padme Something had helped him, before a world audience in Stockholm, Malfoy or Parkinson might notice and try to track Padme down, with detective forces far greater than Ramasita could have managed 10 years ago. And Ramasita himself did not seem to know the danger.

"So you're trapped between two matters of honour, to tell the truth and to keep a promise," analyzed Hermione. "Suppose you do it this way-"

She described a solution that he might follow as he accepted the award in Stockholm. Ramasita listened carefully, and nodded. "Yes, that would solve matters as best as possible under the circumstances. So. Tomorrow, we start designing our experiments, yes?"

"Yes."

It would be a relief to able to focus on mathematics and science and not have to worry about witchcraft and evil Ministers for a while. Perhaps the research would even give her the tool or weapon that she needed, to defeat the dark forces arrayed against her.

TO BE CONTINUED.

_(Author's Note: Next chapter, the award at last!)_


	13. The Nobel Speeches

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 13 The Nobel Speeches**

The King of Sweden, official presenter of the Nobel science awards, stood at the podium. He started off speaking in Swedish, and Hermione could catch only a few names, including her own. But he followed up with a translation into English.

"The Nobel Prize in Physics is awarded jointly to Professor Hermione Granger and to Professor Satyavan Ramasita for their independent investigations into the implications of String Theory."

Hermione rose, and at the other side of the theatre, she saw Ramasita do the same. She went up the stairs to the stage, careful not to trip on her long dress. As they approached the King he extended his hand for them to shake (that was nice and democratic; in the UK she would have had to curtsey to the monarch) and then handed her the traditional plaque. Then she seated herself on stage while Ramasita replaced the King at the podium to give his acceptance speech. He and Hermione had agreed that Ramasita would talk first.

"I am thankful that the Academy has decided to honour me. However, no science occurs in a vacuum. As Newton said, 'If I seem to see farther than other men, it is because I stand on the shoulders of giants'."

Obviously Ramasita had decided to follow Hermione's advice about giving credit where it was due. She tuned out the actual speech, concentrating on her own, which was to follow.

Luna had reluctantly conceded that it was time to abandon the Statute on Secrecy that had governed wizards' relationships with Muggles for three centuries. It was predicated on the assumption that the wizards themselves would refrain from exploiting the secrecy to hurt Muggles. Now the wizard attacks on Muggle technological achievements, and their cheating to win power in at least two nations, crossed the line. Muggles deserved to be warned.

This was the perfect opportunity. Perhaps the average viewer would not tune into the Nobel awards ceremony, but the world's scientific elite was here, and journalists from dozens of nations. Even if Malfoy or Parkinson knew what she was about to do, how could they stop her?

Ramasita had been continuing his speech.

"In particular, I would like to thank the laboratory assistant who helped me in the early days of my research. She asked to remain anonymous, and I am honouring that request, but if you are watching, I want you to know that I am grateful, and so is the world of science."

He went on with his speech, but he must be immensely relieved, having satisfied his sense of honour regarding Padma.

Hermione had of course consulted Luna about the mystery assistant. Luna had said it was most likely Padma Patil, who had attended school with her, along with her twin sister Parvati Patil. Their family, originally from India, had settled in Wales, but after completing their final year of school, the twins had announced that they were returning home. They did not give a reason, but Luna suspected that they were unhappy with recent developments at Britain's Ministry of Magic: stricter enforcement of laws against dissidents, and against Muggle-borns in particular.

Luna couldn't figure out exactly what Padma was trying to do in Ramasita's employ. Padma must have realized that he was on the track of how magic worked, without realizing it himself, and that she could help by tweaking the bugs out of the system. But was she simply interested in a scientific explanation of magic, or was she consciously looking for a weapon against the dark wizards? Whichever it was, she must have realized that publication of her role might arouse the hostility of the anti-Muggle forces. Hence the oath, followed by the disappearance.

And Hermione was about to affront the same people.

APPLAUSE. Ramasita had finished his speech, and Hermione had not even been listening. He took his seat, and Hermione walked to the podium. She had not written out a speech; she had told herself that she was a professional lecturer, and could speak impromptu from a set of notes. Only now did she realize that she had been too intimidated to type the word WITCHCRAFT.

She looked out at the audience awaiting words of wisdom from the Nobel Prize winner.

"The fundamental assumption of the Nobel Prizes," she said, "is that the increase of knowledge benefits humanity. Knowledge is power, is the old saying. But power in itself is a-moral. What matters is how it is used, by human beings."

"In the last century, power increased to the point that a handful of people could have a devastating effect on the globe, thanks to rocketry and the atomic bomb. The Flu Force,which I have been studying, could also be misused."

She was trying to ease into the revelation; that the Flu Force lay behind magic and that evil magic was a threat to everybody. But looking out into the audience, her heart failed her. She simply could not stand in front of the world's greatest scientists and say "witchcraft", much less "I am a witch".

Just because she was a Nobel Prize winner didn't give her unlimited credibility. If they didn't simply laugh her off of the stage, or dismiss her as another scientist cracking under pressure, they would want evidence, and how much evidence did she have? Even doing magic tricks wouldn't work; they'd suspect fraud and sleight-of-hand. Many of them regarded themselves as fighting a battle against superstition and ignorance. In the long run she might be able to explain that magic wasn't really magic, but the use of scientific forces whose nature was not fully understood at the moment. But she did not have enough data for that at the moment.

She ended up with some platitudes about with great power comes great responsibility. People applauded politely. She started back to her chair, then thought better of it and exited. People would attribute it to nerves, the stress of an ivory-tower professor unused to the limelight at the center of scientific world.

She found the womens' WC, barricaded herself in a stall, and threw up. Her moods swang, and now she was dismayed how she had lost her best chance for exposing the wizard conspiracy. She was reluctant to face Luna, whom she had persuaded of the necessity of a revelation, only to retreat. How could she retrieve the situation?

Basically there was only one path left: find the scientific principles underlying magic. Find a weapon, or give the subject enough to scientific respectability to impress other scholars to do their own research.

And hope that she could do that before the Malfoys and Parkinsons carried out the next stages of their plans.

TO BE CONTINUED


	14. CERN

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 14 CERN**

"Greetings. Madame – Messieurs – welcome to CERN. I am Maximilian Kohler, the director here," said the man in the wheelchair. "Allow me to show you around. The scientists are all anxious to meet you, but I think formal discussions of experiments can wait until tomorrow."

Hermione curtseyed – or, since she was wearing pants, waved her hands as if holding an invisible skirt - and Ramasita said, "Thank you, sir. It is an honor to be here."

_I should have said that_, thought Hermione, but Kohler turned his wheelchair before she could think of a polite statement, and she could do nothing but follow_. I can't seem to do anything right, right now._

This should have been one of the high points of her life, second to accepting the Nobel. Admission to the best facility for atomic physics on the planet. A charmed community, of persons sharing her interests and goals. And she would be one of the first among equals. But her mind kept drifting off to another subject.

Luna had disappeared. Hermione couldn't much blame her. She had persuaded Luna into abandoning her lifelong conviction that witchcraft needed to be kept secret, only to turn coward when it was time for HER, Hermione, to make the revelation. Luna must have been very disappointed. Had Luna also decided that Hermione couldn't be counted on to research weapons or protections against witchcraft; had she lost hope in her altogether? Hermione could not tell until she talked to Luna again, which might never happen. Somehow the loss of Luna's respect was more important than her stellar reputation with everybody else.

It would do no good to try to search for her, or even to hire detectives to do so. It would be difficult to track down a woman who could literally disappear into thin air.

Mark was trying to keep up conversation in his wife's place. "I've heard that, in addition to everything else, your organization invented the Internet."

Kohler waved his hand. "That's a fuzzy concept, 'inventing the Internet'. Numerous people have been involved in inventing the Internet, including your Mr. Gore. We came up with the notion of hypertext here, what is now known as HTML. And the triple "W" acronym is ours too. But that was a sideline of our main interest, high-energy particle physics."

Kohler launched into a lecture. Mark, who had actually heard much of the information from his wife, politely feigned ignorance and curiosity.

"Certain properties of particles can be hypothesized, but don't become observable until the particles are charged with immense energy. Out in the Universe there are places where it happens naturally – novas, quasars, at the center of stars. But on Earth it would almost never happen naturally – energy is too diffuse. We must MAKE it happen, by accelerating particles to near the speed of light, and then forcing them to collide."

"In the case of my research," said Ramasita, "It isn't just a matter of energy. The particle field must be oriented a certain way. But as you said, it isn't likely to happen spontaneously on Earth."

_No,_ thought Hermione_, but there are certain people who can make it happen, though they can't explain how. And I can't be condescending to them, because I'm one of them, and I can't explain it either._

The tour went by like a dream, without leaving much emotional impression, because her mind was elsewhere. Even the visit inside the Large Hadron Collider itself, one of the most powerful machines on Earth, wasn't particularly impressive. Without the beams of high-energy particles travelling inside it, it just looked like a long, curving hallway with a lot of wires.

Shortly afterward, during a lull in the tour, she managed to get Mark alone, and mentioned one of her worries. "Mark, do you think it's possible that the wizards may try to attack me here? I don't have either Luna or my bodyguard to protect me any more."

"I don't think there's much danger of that," Mark said calmly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Think of it from their point of view. According to Luna, the wizards almost pride themselves on ignorance of "Muggle" technology. Suppose they did try to invade CERN, and accidently zapped the wrong machine? It might set off a nuclear explosion, devastating a corner of Europe. I don't think they'd take the risk of that."

That made sense. But they might be making other plans that Hermione would like to thwart, and without Luna she had no means of finding what was going on.

After getting back together with Kohler, they discussed Mark's role. While preparing to become a professor of History, Mark had become fluent in French and German, with a smattering of some other languages, so the logical job was to be a translator. CERN, an international agency, had chosen English as its official language, but there were scientists around the world, particularly Francophone, who preferred to read its publications in their own language. The catch was that Mark was not familiar with specialized scientific terminology, so he would have to start at a low level doing only partial translations. But at least he would have a respectable job, and not just be a hanger-on of his wife.

He certainly wasn't a mere hanger-on from Hermione's point of view; he gave valuable moral support. In the privacy of their new apartment that night, Hermione discussed her misgivings, and Mark gave his opinion.

"There are two possibilities, Hermione: That the dark wizards are not a danger, in which case you are worrying yourself too much. Or they ARE a danger, in which case the worst thing you can do is become fatalistic. You have power, Hermione, and I'm not just talking about the witchcraft. You can think without Luna. Intellectual power."

She realized that he was right, and the next day she threw herself into work.

This was Wednesday. Ramasita persuaded the scientific staff to set up the Large Hadron Collider to run in his configuration this coming Monday. It would allow him to test aspects of his theory by direct observation for the first time. Hermione went along with the plan, even though she had done the experiments before – in a rural field near Baconia with a witch assistant and a couple of horses grazing nearby. But at least this time around she could publish her findings.

By Saturday she had cheered up to the point that she could actually enjoy her new surroundings. She decided to go shopping in a nearby village – not so much because she needed supplies, but in order to play tourist and admire the picturesque surroundings.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped something," said a man's voice behind her as she emerged from a chocolate shop. Its accent was pure British English without a trace of foreign accent. And how, in a village in Switzerland near the French border, had he known to address her in English? Besides, she wasn't aware of dropping anything.

She turned around. The man was holding out a stick. No, not just a stick. A wand like Luna's. She knew perfectly well that she had not dropped THAT.

And the man was the red-headed lover from her nightmares.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I borrowed Kohler's name, position, and disability, though not his personality, from Dan Brown's ANGELS AND DEMONS)_


	15. The Ron Not Taken

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 15 The Ron not Taken**

Hermione had to think quickly. Obviously she hadn't dropped the wand, so the man had some reason for interrupting her. Either the wand itself was important, or he needed a pretext for talking to her. Maybe she should assume the latter.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad you found it, because it's actually a valuable heirloom. I'd like to reward you." _Ugh, that sounded lame. Should I pretend to be attracted to him? That would be awkward, for people who know I'm married. _"Can I treat you at the chocolate shop?"

"Thank you, ma'am, that would be lovely." Close up, he looked very unconvincing saying that, but she was right; this was a pretext to talk.

The chocolate shop was a good idea, because it was an obvious place for people to go on dates, and the manager didn't think it odd for them to request a fairly secluded booth. Once in it, Hermione dropped the daft pose. "Okay, who are you?"

"My name is Ron Weasley," said the ginger.

"That sounds familiar – oh! an acquaintance of mine told me you were friends with Harry Potter."

"Were. I should have stuck with it, but I pulled out after falling in a patch of carnivorous plants." He looked grim. "It was the biggest mistake of my life. And, by the way, you don't need to be secretive about your 'acquaintance'. I've been talking to Luna."

"I know she's upset with me, but –"

"You needn't explain. I know that educated Muggles have been taught for centuries that witchcraft is a silly superstition, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell a roomful of savants about magic. Luna didn't grasp that. But I understand because my wife is Muggleborn, and I've spent some time in the Muggle world. But my story's getting muddled; I ought to tell it in order."

"Go ahead."

"Do you know what the Philosopher's Stone is?"

"It's a mythical element with the supposed power to – oh. You're going to tell me it's not just a myth."

"Right. It was hidden in the cellar of our school for safekeeping, but not safe enough. Since Harry and I failed to protect it, a traitor stole it and used it to bring a dead and particularly nasty wizard back to life. He's so powerful that nobody dares say his name."

"Speak of the devil and he'll appear?"

"That's what it amounts to. But by the time I realized that, my girlfriend was already in danger from the dark wizards, and Harry had disappeared. I joined an underground group trying to fight the dark wizards, and so did Luna, but we've been fighting a losing battle all this time. Would it have made a difference if I had stuck with Harry? Maybe, or maybe I'd've just been killed." Suddenly he stared at Hermione. "I wonder—"

"What?"

"Luna told me that you're a witch, but that your parents turned down McGonagall when she offered an education in magic. And I know you're a brain, because they don't give the Nobel Prize to fools. I know this is a rude thing to ask a woman, but would you mind saying how old you are?"

"I don't mind. It's all over the Internet anyway. I'm thirty-two."

"So am I. So would Harry be, if he's still alive. If you had gone to Hogwarts, you would have been in our class, maybe even our house. Maybe YOU could have made a difference."

"What's done is done. It doesn't do much good to brood on such things."

"Right – well, back to my story. After Luna told me that she had given up, I thought I should try. It seemed that she was repeating my error, in not sticking by Harry. Also, there are some things she neglected to tell you, because she takes them for granted herself. Do you know about the Unforgivable Curses?"

Hermione shook her head. "No".

"Unforgivable or not, somebody may use them on you. The first is _Imperio_, which allows the cursor to take over the will of his victim and give orders. Then there is _Crucio_, the torture curse. Finally the death curse, _Aveda Kadavra_."

"I remember the last. Somehow it popped up in my head when I was threatemed at the Malfoys' ."

"Popped up?" Ron looked confused.

"That happens to me on occasion. Like the name of my discovery, the Flu Force. And I've seen you in dreams." She was careful not to say that she had seen him in her bed. "That's not a common wizard phenomenon?"

Ron looked even more confused. "No. Professor Trelawney claimed to have visions, but everybody considered her rather a fraud. Maybe having visions has to do with being a witch AND a genius." He shrugged, and pointed at the wand. "I think this is more important. If somebody tries to curse you, you can defend yourself with this."

"But I don't know any spells."

"I know. So I also brought this." He took an old book out of his shopping bag. "The book itself doesn't matter, it's just a textbook. But it belonged to a very clever wizard, and he made a lot of notes in it about spells. You may be able to learn from them."

"Thank you."

"I have to leave before the other side gets suspicious. But I'll try to talk Luna into coming back and giving you some training."

Hermione smiled. "That would be very good."

0 0 0

Sunday night, Hermione had a vivid dream.

She was talking to two kids, "tweens" as they were called nowadays. She was waving a wand and chanting in obscure Latin, and seemed to be demonstrating magic spells to them.

And she was pregnant.

Not only did she look down and see her belly swelling, but she could FEEL the child moving in the womb. As much as she could judge such things, from talking to friends who had had babies, she was about a month away from giving birth. It was a poignant shock when she woke up and realized that her stomach was still flat.

What did it mean? That if her parents had not turned away that witch named McGonagall, she might have three children by now? Or had her odd dreams of an alternate existence just gotten entangled with her repressed anxiety at not being able to bear children?

Whatever it meant, the dream stuck in her head. She was still mulling over it the next day, when Ramasita was doing the final calibrations to the Large Hadron Collider.

"All right. Five minutes buildup, and then my configuration will sustain itself for two seconds," Ramasita summarized. "Wish it was longer, but it would be better than anything I've been able to create up to now. Do you want to set up any instruments of your own, Hermione?"

She already knew what he would measure, from her experiments in the horse pasture. "No, this is your baby – um – yes. I'll take my turn next, based on the results."

"All right, then let 'er rip."

They pressed the final button, then enjoyed a laugh at Ramasita's pun. What they were about to 'rip' was atoms themselves.

Ramasita stared at his instruments, since even the buildup would produce useful information for his theory. The other scientists shared his fascination. Nobody was paying much attention to Hermione.

Suddenly she felt an odd tingling sensation – down her right pants leg, which was where she was concealing the wand that Weasley had given her. Suddenly it occurred to her that it might be a bad idea to bring a wand in proximity to a powerful, artificial mana field.

"Configuration in 15 seconds," Ramasita said in delight. "10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 - ".

And the universe seemed to explode around Hermione.

TO BE CONTINUED


	16. Change of State

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 16 Change of State**

It was like the time Luna had teleported her to the beach: Hermione felt herself spinning in some weird continuum that didn't resemble normal space at all. The difference was that it went on and on. She finally realized, by instinct rather than deduction, that she probably had to meditate on a destination. Unable to think clearly, she simply repeated the word _home_ in her mind.

The universe came back. And, just as on the previous occasion, she lost her balance and fell back on her bum. This time, it landed on something hard.

"Bollocks!" she swore. Not only was the impact painful, but if anybody had been watching, it was humiliating. See the world-famous scientist take a pratfall and land on her arse.

On the other hand, a hypothetical watcher might have been awed that she had materialized out of thin air. Besides, it could have been worse. She could have fallen forward this time, landed on her face, and broken her nose.

Where was she?

Hermione looked around and saw, to her astonishment, that she was standing on the pavement in front of her father's house in England, the place where she had grown up.

Tentatively, she decided that the combination of the intense mana field and her own wand had charged her with so much magical power that she had done a spell without intending it. She had wanted to get away from the Collider, so she vanished. She had meditated on _home_, and now she was home.

There was only one problem. At the corner of her block, she saw the old grocer's shop. That store had been torn down during her second year in boarding school, after being damaged in a fire; she had come home to find a vacant lot. That was 1993. Had she travelled in time?

Trying to look casual, she wandered into the grocer's, and bought a newspaper; fortunately she still had British currency in her wallet. She looked at the date on the front page. 11 June, 1991.

Mum was still alive.

She tossed the paper and ran back to her house, then stood in frustrating indecision. To an outside observer, she was a thirty-something woman with a short hairdo, not a pre-teen with bushy hair. What was she supposed to say? "Hi, Mum, I'm Minnie from the future, and guess what? I just won the Nobel Prize." Mum would think the stranger was crackers.

As she stood, she saw a cat wander up to the front door. Then it suddenly started growing, and took the form of an elderly woman in old-fashioned clothes. Hermione had never seen her before, but she didn't have to guess who it was. McGonagall.

The old woman knocked, and Hermione saw her mother answer the door. It took all of her will power not to rush up and talk to her. The two women went inside the house.

Hermione HAD to get more involved.

There were hedges in front of the house, and they were thick enough to give good concealment. Hermione, as a child, had hidden there once or twice as a prank, although normally she was a well-behaved little girl. She crouched there now. The window was open, and she could hear the conversation in the drawing-room.

"So you say witches really do exist? I always loved "Narnia" and "A Wrinkle in Time", but I thought they were just fantasy. And you're sure that my daughter won't have to do anything wrong to learn magic? No sell-the-soul-to-Mephistopheles?"

"No, magical power is inborn, and it is morally neutral," said McGonagall, calmly looking as if she'd explained it a thousand times. "We try to teach our pupils to use it properly."

"Maybe Minnie needs that sort of guidance. We always thought she was special, but this is out of our range."

Something was very wrong. Hermione had been told that her parents had turned down McGonagall, yet here was her mother sounding interested.

But Hermione had thrown herself back in time, quite by accident. Some other witch or wizard with a specific agenda may have done the same thing, and had persuaded Hermione's parents to be more favorable to the idea. What sort of agenda? Maybe they wanted to stop Hermione's scientific researches, which might be a threat to the wizards' monopoly on magic power. Or maybe sending Hermione to the school would make it easier to spy on and control her. Whatever the threat, Hermione had to stop it.

She no longer had the key to her father's front door, but she did know where her parents habitually hid it for emergencies, under one of the bushes. She fished it out, unlocked the front door, and charged into the drawing room.

"W-what?" stammered Mum. "Who are you?

"_Imperio_!" called Hermione, pointing her wand at McGonagall. The woman's face went blank.

Imposing her will on a powerful witch was much easier than she had expected. The element of surprise, or maybe the mana field had augmented Hermione's powers. She remembered Emily Dickinson's adage_: Surgeons must be very careful when they wield the knife _She only wanted to stop McGonagall's proposal, not enslave her will for life. For all she knew, the elderly woman might be ignorant of the intrigues, and be acting on the best of intentions.

"You will leave," said Hermione firmly. "You will remember that my mother rejected your proposal, and you will not come again."

McGonagall got up, and walked to the front door, with glazed eyes and moving like a robot.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded Mum after the front door closed.

Hermione could not put the Imperio curse on her own mother. She would have to rely on persuasion. "Mum, I'm Minnie, from twenty years in the future."

"How do you expect me to believe that?"

It was a sensible question. What could she say that would prove her identity?

"Mum, when I started losing my baby teeth a few years ago, I was able to call each one by its proper name, and you and Dad were so proud. But you never told anyone else."

Mum's eyes went wide as she realized Hermione had come up with a good proof.

"Mum, this is very difficult to explain, but you mustn't send me to the wizard school. You must give me – Minnie – a normal education. I'm from the future and I know. Don't even tell Dad. Just ignore McGonagall's visit. Please, it's important."

Vertigo, the sensation of floating outside the universe. Hermione must be about to fade out. And she had spent her whole visit on logistics.

"Mum – Mum – I love you—" She felt tears prickle her eyes.

The universe faded away again. Once more she found herself spinning in limbo. _Home, home, I've gotta go back!_

She found herself in the CERN lab, and once more suffered momentary disorientation. She fell forward, tried to break her fall by grabbing a soft chair, then slipped to the floor.

"Professor – Hermione – are you all right?" cried Ramasita's voice. "Call a doctor – I think she's fainted!"

TO BE CONTINUED.


	17. Real or Not Real

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 17 REAL OR NOT REAL?**

_(AUTHOR'S DISCLAIMER: Readers of the Hunger Games Trilogy will recognize where I got the chapter title and final line. I don't have permission to do that, either.)_

Hermione had not blacked out, but she certainly felt disoriented. Uncertain of what to say, she kept her eyes closed for several minutes. She felt some hands pick her up, eventually putting her on a table with wheels; she had seen it in use earlier for delivering supplies. By now feeling guilty for imposing on her colleagues, she opened her eyes again. "What happened?" she said slowly.

"You fainted. We don't know why," said Ramasita's voice.

Fainted? She had been, by a rough estimate, gone into the past for at least half an hour; hadn't anybody noticed that she wasn't there? "How long was I out?"

"Just a couple of minutes."

"The last thing I remember is your counting down to zero," Hermione lied. There was something weird with the timing, but she had to be very indirect with the questions. "How long ago was that?"

"Just a couple of minutes, as I said. Do you know what happened to you?"

"I got a shock from my – um – measuring stick."

"Do you mean this?" Ramasita asked, holding up her wand. "I found it next to you on the floor. I thought you said you weren't going to do measurements."

"It's just something I was experimenting with. Can I have it back?" The last thing she needed was Ramasita taking apart her "measuring stick" to see how it worked. She wasn't sure what he would find inside, but it would probably be hard to explain away, and she may not be able to put it together again.

"Certainly. But I'd be careful not to bring it near the Collider again while it's in operation."

"I'll remember." _Definitely. I don't want to get thrown in the past again. Once – or should I say twice? – is enough._

They got her to the infirmary, and not having any idea what had happened to her, the doctors started performing standard tests on temperature, blood pressure, and whatnot. Hermione was worried that Ramasita would tell the doctors about her "measuring stick" and that THEY would insist on examining it. Fortunately Mark showed up, having been called by a helpful assistant. Hermione pointed surreptitiously to the scientist and then the door, and Mark began hinting that Hermione might want medical privacy. With him out, she was free to tell the doctors a story that did not involve the wand.

"Your blood pressure is high, but all other signs are normal," said a doctor.

"Maybe just over-excitement," said Hermione. "After all, it was an unprecedented experiment."

"Perhaps. We'll run a few more tests, and we'll get you a drug for hypertension. I'd like to monitor you every few days, for a while. When was your last check-up?"

"About four months ago."

Finally they released her, with a recommendation that she spend the rest of the day resting at home. Mark called his own bosses, suggesting that he finish his translation at home and Email it in, while keeping an eye on his wife. By mid-afternoon, she and Mark finally had some privacy.

"All right," he said, when she was stretched out comfortably in bed in her underclothes, "what really happened?"

"Time travel," Hermione said bluntly.

"WHAT?"

"Somehow I sent myself back in time to 1991."

"You couldn't have gone to a more interesting year, like 1492 or 1776?" he joked. Mark was, after all, a professor of history.

"Ha ha. No, this was 'interesting' enough. Let me tell it from the beginning-"

So Hermione told her story in detail. Since this was Mark she was talking to, she even included the embarrassing bits such as falling on her rear end when she materialized. Amazingly, Mark did not interrupt once, but his expression was no longer sardonic. He was trusting Hermione to tell him the truth.

"I haven't even started trying to figure out the science of it," said Hermione. "What's scaring the crap out of me is the intrigue. You see? Somebody else has learnt how to travel in time, and is using it to try to undermine me. And I learnt about it only by accident – that I happened to be thinking of that period, and that the Collider gave me enough extra power to send me back. If it weren't for that accident, they would have succeeded in getting me sent to that wizarding school, where they could keep an eye on me."

"But didn't you WANT to learn about wizardry?"

"I want to learn about it IN ADDITION to what I know now. But if I had gone to that school, I'd have been cut off from modern knowledge. Remember what Luna told us about the subjects offered? I'd have learnt numerology instead of maths. Potions instead of chemistry. Spells instead of facts. Can you imagine me saying 'It's levi-O-sa, not levio-SA?' " She heard her voice rising to a squeak.

"Hermione! Calm down! Remember what they said about blood pressure."

Hermione got herself under control, took some deep breaths. "Sorry. The thought have losing all my education scared me. And there was something else that rattled me too."

"What was it?"

Hermione sighed. "Mum. Seeing her alive again. And there was no time to enjoy it. I couldn't even tell her how overjoyed I was, because it would have meant telling her she was going to die. Have you ever seen the play OUR TOWN? A girl goes back in time, enjoys a day of her past – but she can't communicate her joy. To everybody else it's just a nice day."

"Yes, I remember it. But there is something odd about this time travel thing-"

"What?"

"If the dark wizards have it, why not make better use of it? Wouldn't you go to the most vulnerable period of the past, where your victims were weakest? Like the Battle of Britain? Or the US Civil War. American historians always talk about weak the Presidents were after Lincoln was shot, and the silly impeachment of Johnson. Parkinson could have grabbed a lot power then."

Hermione realized that her husband was bringing up the subject to distract her from grief over her mother, and she was grateful, but she couldn't solve the riddle. "I don't know. Just more mysteries."

0-0-0

After that evening's dinner, which had been cooked by her husband, Hermione asked "Mark? Can we make love tonight?"

Mark grinned. "Wonderful! But I'd thought you'd lost interest lately—"

"Too much distraction. Nobel prize, witches, the assault at the Prime Minister's. But it hasn't been fair to you. I love you, and I want to –"

They kissed, and Hermione escaped having to explain just why she had suddenly gotten so interested in making love to her husband.

It was her mother's situation in reverse. She kept having nightmares where Mark wasn't there. And now she realized that if those bloody dark wizards had succeeded in changing her past, she would never have met Mark.

0-0-0

Several hours later, a naked and blissful Hermione sank back on the pillows of their bed, no longer bedeviled by the thought of a universe where her marriage did not exist.

"Ah. That was REAL—"

TO BE CONTINUED.


	18. Destruction and Creation

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**CHAPTER 18 Destruction and Creation**

TAP-TAP-TAP-

Hermione was awakened one morning by odd tapping on the window of their bedroom. After trying to ignore it, she finally slipped out of bed, put on a robe, and carefully pulled the curtains of the window. After all, she didn't want to be seen half-naked by some passerby, and it occurred to her that the tapper might even be some crazy voyeur, wanting to assure himself that Nobel-prize-winning women had boobs like everybody else -

It was an owl, pecking on the glass.

Ordinarily Hermione would never think of letting a bird indoors, where it might fly around dodging all attempts to catch it. But she noticed a package tied to the bird's legs. Who would think of using an owl like a passenger pigeon? Well, she knew who.

She opened the window enough to let the owl in, and untied the package. When she unwrapped it, she found she was holding a gaudy textbook, entitled INTRODUCTION TO WITCHCRAFT. When she opened it she found much of it dominated by bright pictures – which, to her surprise, moved. There was also a note_, Coming to visit soon with Luna – Weasley._

Hermione giggled. It would normally be an insult to give a child's primer to a world-famous savant, but at the moment it was exactly what she needed. Reading that other book, the one signed "the Half-Blood Prince", was difficult. It was full of notes, but the notes had been written by an expert to stimulate his own memory, not to educate some beginner in the field. It had taken her some time to figure out that "nvbl" meant non-verbal, a spell that could be cast by the will alone.

"Oww!" Hermione yelped, as she felt a pain in her finger. Looking down, she saw that the owl had pecked her hand, hard. Looking miffed, it finally walked out the window and took off again. Had it been expecting some sort of tip? Annoyed, Hermione slammed the window shut while protecting the finger.

"Hmmph," said Mark, finally awakened by the noise. "What happened?"

"I just got a wizard textbook from an owl."

"Wha- I must still be dreaming—"

Hermione's days were now a whirlwind of mental activity. At CERN she let Ramasita plan the experiments, while she interpreted the results and suggested lines of research based on her own experiments in the States, and hints she had deduced from Luna's remarks. Ramasita was too excited by the research to notice the lopsided division of labor.

That work took up the daylight hours. In the evenings she would get out the primer and practice simple spells with her wand. _Wingardium Leviosa_, the spell Luna had used to save Hermione when she fell from her horse, was there; it was a levitation spell. Too bad she didn't dare try it at CERN, with all the subtle devices for measuring fields. But not only would it be difficult to explain if she was caught, but she did not dare take her wand near the Collider. One accidental trip back in time was enough.

And in her spare time – when there was any – she tried to figure out her trip back in time, which had seemingly violated several conservation laws. During the half-hour of her sojourn, several dozen kilos of mass were missing from 2012 and were added to the universe in 1991, namely her own body. That violated the conservation of mass-energy. Even more bewildering was the notion of "changing history". Time was inside the space-time continuum; so how could the continuum itself undergo change? Were there two types of time? What happened to a history when it was "changed"? Did it simply vanish from the multiverse? What happened to the people in it? _Tell me where all past years are_, John Donne had famously written in Shakespeare's time. Hermione was trying to figure where a past universe went.

Then the real world caught up with her.

One morning, roughly two weeks after the time-travel incident, Hermione came to work and heard people conversing in multiple languages about the Houses of Parliament. She joined an English group and discovered that somebody had set part of the British Houses of Parliament on fire during the night. The building was largely empty and there were few casualties, but it was a symbolic threat to the center of British democracy.

Confusing reports drifted in for the rest of the day. The official local news was in French, and Hermione tried to get English news over the internet, but it was mixed in with misinformation and rumours. At roughly 1:30, there was one clear bit of news: the British government - Malfoy's government – had declared a state of emergency. By evening, when Hermione went home, something else was clear: the state of emergency was not just a momentary response to the crisis, but would stay in effect indefinitely.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked her husband as they fixed dinner.

"Reichstag Fire," Mark answered.

"What?"

"Back in the 1930s, somebody set the Reichstag, center of the German government, on fire. The Nazis were in office at the time, though under constitutional restrictions. They declared a state of emergency and used it to oppress their opponents and increase their power over the country. Many historians think the Nazis set the fire themselves in order to exploit the resulting crisis. Malfoy's group may have done the same thing."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I see the parallel. Attacking the center of government doesn't just weaken the government, it also pushes emotional buttons. Every English kid is taught about a bogeyman named Guy Fawkes, who supposedly tried to blow up Parliament back in Shakespeare's time. 'Remember, remember the Fifth of November'. And if Malfoy's group used magic, then even the most honest and brilliant Muggle investigator might fail to find evidence that they were involved."

Hermione wondered if she should return to England during the emergency. She was dissuaded by a vague Email from her dad, advising her to "stay where you are". No explanation for the advice, which itself told Hermione something: Dad thought his email might be intercepted and didn't want to be too explicit.

During the next few days Hermione kept watching for Luna or Ron Weasley to show up, but neither did. It concerned her. There were several possibilities for that: they could have been killed or captured, or, at best, they thought it would be dangerous to travel or send messages from England to Switzerland at the moment. Could Malfoy's government spy on owls? Why not pull the Patronus trick? Maybe it had a distance limit.

And she wished she had asked them about how wizards on the Continent lived, when she had the opportunity. All she remembered from Luna was a reference to an evil wizard back in the 1940s. Were the wizards here organized in a government spanning Western Europe, or did they have national organizations? Were there schemers trying to take over, like Malfoy and Parkinson? Did she need to be cautious when politicians came to visit CERN?

Hermione started brooding again on whether she had been doing the right thing. If she had mentioned the existence of magic at the Nobel ceremony, people might have suspected that magic was involved in the attack on Parliament. And Ramasita still didn't know that his research could lead to a useful anti-magic weapon, and she couldn't think of a good way to tell him. The good news was that his excitement over his results kept him energetically at work, and she thought that he was on the right path. She didn't want to burst his bubble.

One morning, she was attacked by nausea and ended up throwing up her breakfast. She attributed it to stress; there had been news of a mass arrest of a "dissident group" in London the previous day. And although the crisis was escalating, her father's emails got blander and blander, as if everything in England was peaceful and business-as-usual.

The next day, fascinated by some experimental results that Ramasita was calling out, she got up from her desk too quick and was hit by such a wave of dizziness that she had to prop herself up by leaning on the desk. A lot of people noticed. Naturally they related it to her "fainting spell" roughly a month before, and insisted that she go to the infirmary for another round of medical tests. Hermione knew that this was different from the "fainting spell", which meant it was all the more important to know what caused the vertigo.

An hour later, Hermione was still sitting impatiently in the surgery, as the doctor seemed to be taking unusually long to check the results of the tests. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, Frau Professor, not at all. In fact, you may be quite happy about your condition. Because according to my tests, you are going to have a baby."

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The British are brought up on the Guy Fawkes story, as I mentioned in the story. Americans may be familiar with it via the movie V FOR VENDETTA a few years back._


	19. Delicate Conditions

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 19 Delicate Conditions**

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "We've tried for so long, even been to other doctors—"

"I know from your records; that's why I was careful to doublecheck the results. But it's definite: you're pregnant."

All sorts of images entered Hermione's head, so many that she could not focus on just one. Her belly swelling in the next few months. Actually giving birth, which scared her somewhat; she knew it was a painful experience. Holding the baby in her arms; later seeing the child play. Her home schedule would have to change; no more spending long hours on calculations and her computer. And a sudden, disconcerting thought: would the child be able to perform magic? Would she be sending her offspring to that weird school Luna described? Just to be addressed as "Mom" or "Mum" would be a startling novelty.

She pulled her attention back to the present moment, when the doctor was talking about purely medical implications.

"The drop in blood pressure, and the morning sickness you mentioned a few days ago, were symptoms of early pregnancy. I can give you some safe pills to mitigate the effects. Here at CERN, you must take precautions against exposure to radiation; there are protocols. In particular you must avoid accidents like that shock that you got from your measuring rod. I'll send you instructions, in English."

Then the doctor talked about timing. Hermione was about a month along, the doctor said, so she would bear her child roughly eight months hence. They could get more precise as the pregnancy progressed. Hermione herself was too overwhelmed by the essential notion of having new life within her to focus on the details at the moment.

Mark. Mark had to be told, that he had a child in Hermione's womb. And Hermione felt that he had to be told in person – that this news shouldn't be entrusted to a mere phone call, or Email. So after leaving the doctor's surgery, she headed to the office building where he worked as a translator. Her own team, Ramasita and the others, might be puzzled by the long delay in her return, but she was sure they would understand once they heard the news.

Mark was naturally incredulous when she pulled him aside into a private area and made the announcement. "Pregnant? You're pregnant? Are you sure?"

"_I_ can't tell. It was a big shock to me, a few minutes ago. But the doctor's sure."

He put his arms around her, then hesitated. Hermione giggled. "I'm not in that delicate a condition at the moment! Go ahead and hug."

He enveloped her in his arms, and for a few minutes Hermione forgot all her cares and let herself be perfectly happy. Mark, herself, and the baby; they were all that mattered in the world.

Then the real world came back.

When she got back to the physics labs, she made her announcement, and everybody dropped work for a while to offer her congratulations. "I thought you had seemed pre-occupied recently, but didn't want to say anything," said Ramasita. "It makes sense now."

Ramasita had neither wife nor children, and thus no personal experience with an expectant mother. He probably assumed that Hermione already suspected she was pregnant and had just gone to the doctor to confirm it, and that was not the case. She had been worrying about Malfoy's increased power and what she could do about it. But she still hadn't thought of a way to explain the situation to Ramasita without bringing in witchcraft..

And now, she realized, the stakes had been raised. It wasn't just Hermione's generation that was in danger. She was going to bear a child, and her child would live in the world Malfoy created, unless somebody stopped him—

0-0-0-0

Padma Patil was lying on the floor, screaming. Bella Lestrange was looming over her threateningly. The Prime Minister's aunt may have been a beauty once, but now she looked like European-Muggle sterotype of an old witch, or Kali, the Hindu death goddess.

Over the years, Bella had apparently invented nasty variations of particular spells, and she was using them now to torture Padma. One was a variation of the Petrificus Totalus spell; it immobilized most of the body below the neck but it still allowed the victim to speak, and it did not deaden the pain nerves at all. Another was based on the _alohanuda _charm whereby one could undress oneself with one fell swoop of the wand. Bellatrix's version could strip other people, against their will. Padma's clothes were all in a heap in the corner. Being naked did not make the torture more painful, but it did make Padma feel more helpless. Inability to hide her anatomy made her feel last confident in keeping secrets in her head.

"What did you tell that Muggle Fizzist?" Bella couldn't even pronounce "physicist" correctly, Padma noticed contemptuously. But she was in no position to look down on Bella. Quite the contrary.

"Nothing! I just worked with him as an assistant – made the experiments run more smoothly."

"Why?"

"I wanted to learn more about science."

"And you just chose the one who was destined to win a big prize?" Bella was getting skeptical about her replies, which mean more pain was coming.

"Nobody knew that at the time!"

"Then why did you choose him?"

"I was interested in his field of research."

"What field? Why?"

Padma refrained from talking. Bella was getting dangerously near the big secret.

"I asked you a question. _Crucio!"_

"Arrrrrrgh! It's a special type of field – " Maybe she could confuse Bella with technobabble.

"What does this field do? _Crucio!_"

"Owwwww!" Padma was in too much pain to concentrate on a coherent lie, and she could not hold out. "It – it enables magic!"

The pain stopped. Padma had actually managed to startle Bella. "Do you mean to say that a Muggle could do magic with this field?"

"Nobody knows! All I've determined is that WE'VE been using it for centuries without knowing. But Ramasita doesn't understand that part; he just thinks it's an interesting pattern of energy. I was loyal to our culture, I didn't tell him-"

"But it's not just Ramasita involved now, is it? There's a Fizzist who's also a witch; she got the other prize. Tell me about the Mudblood-"

0-0-0-0

At home that evening, Hermione realized other implications about her pregnancy. She stared at the bed. Up to now it was a mere piece of furniture, which had come with the European flat, but now she had conceived a child there.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she guessed Mark was thinking similar thoughts. "It must have been that wild night, a month ago."

Hermione nodded. She had been in the most fertile part of her month, and they had certainly exerted themselves, and they had not used contraceptives for years. "Yes, the day of my 'trip' – oh my God!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Hermione, what is it? You just turned pale."

"I – I haven't told you about this, but I had a dream the night before, about being pregnant." She did not add that in the dream world, she had borne two children already. The kids were red-headed and certainly did not resemble Mark. "The Flu forces from the Collider was picking up my thoughts and interpreting them as commands. The main one was whether things could have happened differently two decades ago. But suppose it also picked up on the desire for a baby, and cured my barrenness?"

"Hermione, we don't know for a fact that you were 'barren'. The doctors never found anything explicitly wrong, it could have just been bad luck up to now."

"Maybe. But maybe I cast a fertility spell." She hugged her husband again, this time seeking reassurance. "And who knows what else I may have done to myself?"

TO BE CONTINUED


	20. Maneuvering

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 20 Maneuvering**

The next morning, almost the instant Hermione and Ramasita arrived at their lab, Director Kohler arrived and "invited" them to his office.

"I'll be blunt," the director said, as if he was ever anything else. "Last night we received a couple of death threats, directed at the two of you. A hysterical-sounding woman, speaking English, said that you were seeking 'forbidden knowledge'. Our security people haven't figured out whether she was a crackpot or a genuine threat. But we have living quarters here in the complex. Would you like to move into them and ensure that you are safe inside our security?"

"I've been attacked once already," said Hermione. "And now I'm carrying a child, and anxious for its safety. So yes, I would like to move."

"I understand Hermione's reasoning," said Ramasita, "but I think I'd like to hear the threat and judge for myself."

"Unfortunately we don't have a recording," said Kohler. "She called a number without automatic taping, and since the recipient answered directly, there was no voice mail."

"Then I suppose I too will err on the side of safety and move in."

"That's settled, then. I'll call people to help you move, and also arrange for employees to shop outside the complex for you. Professor Granger, please notify your husband. "

As they left Hermione was relieved that she now had greater security, but also puzzled. Phoning death threats – that wasn't her enemies' style. Up to now they had made sneak attacks, either grabbing her in the Prime Minister's house or trying to meddle with her past. Was this some new player? A general crackpot who thought some aspects of science were "forbidden knowledge"? Or did the caller know that there was a link between their research and witchcraft? That made the caller much more worrisome, because Ramasita didn't know that yet. It was all the more crucial that she somehow let Ramasita know what was going on.

That afternoon the opportunity presented itself, sort of.

Ramasita wanted to run the collider and create a Flu Field again. This time Hermione was taking a lot of precautions: leaving her wand at home, standing at the back of the lab, and wearing a lead apron to protect her womb. And even then she felt a bit tense.

As the Collide revved up (rather literally – it involved running fundamental particles in circles) it occurred to her it would be nice to have a drink of water; her throat was dry. Tension or pregnancy or a combination of the two. She would satisfy her thirst once the experiment was done.

The Collider passed the threshold and formed the particles into a Flu Field. And several liters of water rained on Hermione's head.

"Yeow!" she screamed, losing her balance and falling on the floor.

"Cut! Shut it down!" shouted Ramasita. "Are you all right, Hermione? What happened?" He came to help her up. Between a soaked lab coat and several kilos of lead, that took some doing.

"I don't know!" But it suddenly occurred to her that she did know, and that she could turn this incident to her advantage. "I was thinking that I needed a glass of water, and then I got water!"

Ramasita looked up at the ceiling as if expecting to see a broken pipe. "Somebody's practical joke?"

"How would they know what I was thinking?" asked Hermione, trying to sound confused.

"This sounds crazy, but when in doubt, repeat the experiment—"

"I don't want to get soaked again. It's ruined my hair-do already!" Hermione said, trying to keep a straight face.

"You should go dry yourself off. I'll repeat the experiment. Try to stay at least 100 meters away for half an hour, OK?"

"All right."

Hermione took off the apron and walked down the hallway to the ladies' WC, ignoring the odd stares she got, with water dripping from her hair and labcoat. When safely hidden in a stall, she took off the labcoat – which, fortunately, had protected the clothes below it – and fished out her cell phone.

"Mark? You're not going to believe what happened—"

0-0-0-0

It was hard to give Mark an update that evening, because men were moving their personal belongings out. Finally she pulled Mark into their own WC. If the moving men thought that was kinky, that was their problem.

"Ramasita tried to duplicate the experiment while I was out, and no go. Apparently a Flu Field isn't enough to boost a Muggle's abilities. So after I got back, he ran the collider a third time, and I meditated on _Wingardium Leviosa_. I rose straight into the air, like Mary Poppins! You should have seen everybody's faces! And of course I pretended to be as bewildered as everybody else. So now everybody's going to experiment with magic – only they aren't calling it that."

Mark didn't look entirely convinced. "It was a clever idea, Hermione. Except that if you're the only one that can make the experiments work, they're going to want to do experiments on YOU."

Hermione thought that over. "It'll be worth it, I think, if it furthers the research. If it gets too unpleasant, I can always plead my belly – say that I don't want to endanger the baby."

When they reached their new quarters in the research building, there was a uniformed man waiting for them. "Professeur Grahn-jay?"

"Yes?"

"One told me, to give you this." He held out an envelope.

Hermione thrust it into her pocket. Later, when the moving men were gone, she pulled it out and opened it. "Bloody hell. It's a subpoena! To come back to London."

"What for?"

"As the main witness against Crabbe, for assaulting me."

"That's so hypocritical! Giving him a proper trial when other people are being jailed in the name of the emergency."

"If I go, the wizards may grab me. But if I don't, I'll be accused of making up the whole thing."

Mark thought. "Give them a third alternative. An affidavit. Maybe they wouldn't allow it ordinarily, but you've got prestige, plus security problems, plus a baby—"

"That's it!"

0-0-0-0

The affidavit followed the usual rules. Lawyers from both sides were there, plus a stenographer. But the whole thing was taking place inside CERN. Even if Crabbe's attorney was in on Malfoy's schemes, it would be difficult for him to act against her with witnesses here and a security apparatus outside.

Hermione described the beginning of the incident perfectly honestly. Being invited to the upstairs room, then seized against her will. Then came an awkward question. "How did you free yourself?"

She hesitated. Even now, she was puzzled as to how the term Aveda Kadavra got into her head, even though she knew now what it meant. "I screamed. My captors probably thought people would come up to investigate." If she didn't mention a killing spell, certainly Malfoy's group was not going to bring it up.

"Describe what happened next."

"The guards lost hold of me. One of them tried to grab me again, and tore my dress. Here, at the left shoulder."

"It was not part of a sexual attack?"

"Maybe, maybe not. How should I know?"

"The witness should not be asked to speculate on somebody else's motives," pointed out the opposing attorney.

Hermione sighed with relief. She had avoided committing herself to the reason for the attack.

"And then?"

"My fist collided with Mr. Crabbe's nose."

The stenographer giggled at the description, but recorded it.

"And then?"

"I opened the door, rushed out, and screamed again."

"The door was not locked?"

"No."

"Why would they keep the door unlocked if they were contemplating a crime?"

"Objection. Calls for speculation again," said the opposing attorney.

"I withdraw the question. Very well, we have your testimony now. And by the way, off the record, allow me to congratulate you on your baby, Professor."

Hermione smiled politely. "Thank you." She had gotten through another round, satisfying the subpoena without putting herself into Malfoy's reach, and standing by her story without getting shaken. What would the other rounds bring?

TO BE CONTINUED.


	21. Raising the Stakes

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 21 Raising the Stakes**

_(Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay in getting this chapter up. I moved recently and the computer containing my story got damaged in transit and needed repair.)_

_(Author's Note: By an odd coincidence, the Large Hadron Collider made a major discovery recently in the real world: the Higgs Boson, nicknamed the God Particle because it is at the center of current physics theory)_

The good news out of Hermione's "Mary Poppins" experiment was that Hermione and Ramasita got almost unlimited use of the Large Hadron Collider.

The bad news was that Ramasita went off on the wrong tangent. Having discovered that Hermione could harness the Flu Force with her brain and he could not, he asked nearly everybody at CERN to try the experiment – at one point, he had about a dozen people queued up while keeping the collider running. Hermione knew that he would be unlikely to find guinea pigs, because they would have to be born wizards who had gotten non-wizard educations and met the qualifications for CERN, like herself. And yet she knew that part of his search was in order to spare HER, so she wouldn't have to go through strenuous experiments while pregnant.

But thanks to the expanded time on the Collider, she could devise some experiments of her own. She was puzzled how a single phenomenon, the Flu Force, could account for so many things – not just teleportation, but making somebody float in midair, or dowsing oneself with liters of water, or dyeing and styling Luna's hair. The water experiment seemed easiest. Hermione discovered that she could control the flow so that it fell into a receptacle instead of on her head, and she used the elaborate instrumentation of the labs to analyze the phenomenon. Was she unconsciously teleporting the water from somewhere else? She analyzed it chemically: it was pure H20. Water from natural sources would have at least some particles dissolved in it; stored water would have some cleansing chemicals. Was this pure water actually being created by magic?

Mark accidently gave her a clue one evening, reflecting on one of his own puzzles.

"I'm looking back on every historical incident that involved witchcraft accusations," he said. "The mass execution of the Templars, Joan of Arc, the Salem trials. The traditional explanation was that the people were victims of superstition or political vendettas, but now I have to consider the possibility that real witches were involved sometimes. It's like the history of an alternate universe."

"Maybe that's it!" exclaimed Hermione.

"What?"

"Why is magic able to violate the usual laws of physics? Maybe its natural home is an alternate universe where magic IS the law."

"But how would it get here?"

"Maybe the Flu Force creates a bridge to the other universe and lets magic leak across. And witches like me can somehow manipulate the Flu Force."

"But what's this business with magic incantations? _Wingardia Leviosa_ and all that? Why would saying or thinking certain words – sounds, really – affect a physical force?"

"Hmm, don't know yet-"

"Well, the Force be with you-"

"Haha."

One day one of the German scientists, Elsa Thoven, asked Hermione for a meeting in confidence. She was scheduled to take part in Ramasita's experiment tomorrow; Hermione thought she might be nervous about it and hoped Hermione would get her excused. But when she came to Hermione's office, she was quite direct and assertive.

After seating herself at Hermione's desk with the door closed, Elsa picked up a pencil. _"Aveda Ked—_

Hermione gasped and put her hand protectively on her belly.

"—_doodoo."_

"That's not funny," Hermione said angrily.

"No, I did not intend it to be. It was a test to see if you knew the term. You are a _hexe_, a witch, ja?"

"All right, ja. So I presume that you are, too." Hermione could think of a lot of other descriptions for her, too, some in German. Like _Mistvietch._

"Ja. By birth, not by choice. Fortunately it is usually easy to not be _hexelich_."

Hermione was getting confused. First resentment over the fright was replaced by concern over whether Elsa had been sent by Malfoy or Parkinson to threaten her.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time somebody is born into our family, we get a letter from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, offering to teach the child magic. We turn it down and send our children to a good Muggle school."

"Why?"

"Because who needs magic? Back in the Dark Ages, when life was nasty, brutal, and short, it was good to have magic. But nowadays? I can get more done moving a mouse or pushing a button that waving a wand. What really scares the Parkinsons and others? They act like they are superior to Muggles, but they actually feat that they are being left behind! They go to a wizard school and learn nothing about computers, communications, how things work. So they want to hold all the rest of humanity back with them. Do you think they will leave CERN running if they take charge? No."

"Have you talked to other witches about how you feel? Outside your family?"

"No. They don't bother me, I don't bother them. But in the past few years – the dark wizards want to control everything. To them I am a traitor. And so are you. We are in danger. I am in hiding from the dark wizards, using a false name, and I do not want to be discovered."

Hermione shuddered. Her initial fear that the other was a spy seemed groundless; Elsa was too frank about discussing the danger herself. "Why have you come to me?"

"I need to know what is going on. If I take part of the experiment, will it reveal me as a witch? It certainly seemed to make you react like one. That's why I suspected that you were a secret witch."

Hermione pondered. She had to be careful what she revealed; if news reached the Dark Wizards that the Flu Force could amplify magic, they might take the risk of attacking CERN. But if this abrasive _hexe_ was telling the truth, Hermione wanted to help her keep her secret. The Flu Force might pick up on some stray thought in the German's brain and turn it into a spell.

"I'll tell you what. I'll volunteer to replace Ramasita for an hour or two, and make sure you're scheduled for that period. Then I secretly skip over you."

"_Danke shoen_," said the visitor, visibly relieved.

"_Bitte shoen_. But there's a way you can pay me back. I only found that I was a witch a couple of months ago. Can you tell me what the Continental wizard's government is like?"

Elsa obliged. Like the Ministry of Magic in England, their Ministries were politically behind the times. In an era when Europe was building continent-wide institutions, each nation still had its own Ministry of Magic.

"Two generations back, when Grindelwald tried to take over, the national Ministries fought back," explained Elsa. "They may have been protecting their own turf, but people supported them, to keep Grindelwald at bay. So they keep some of their independence, even now."

"So nowadays, if Malfoy wants to expand his power on the Continent, he has a lot of individual Ministries to contend with," deduced Hermione. "It would slow him down. And he has no power over CERN, because the British don't contribute to its budget." More and more, her decision to settle at CERN for a while was turning out to be a good one – if Elsa was telling the truth. "How can I find the wizard headquarters?"

"The Swiss Minister for Magic is disguised as a bank—"

"Figures. People EXPECT Swiss banks to be secret."

"The German headquarters is in the Black Forest, disguised as a gingerbread house."

"Let me guess. Two German Muggle kids found it a few centuries ago —"

"Ja, and the wizards frightened them away by pretending to be cannibals. Unfortunate for wizards' general reputation, but it did protect the secret."

"Can you tell me how to get there?"

"To get to the Swiss headquarters, you Apparate while meditating on the name 'Paracelsus'."

Hermione tried that out that evening. Not because she particularly wanted to contact the Ministry – she still wanted to keep her status secret from them – but to test out Elsa's story. She found herself in a bank corridor, where a sign gave clear instructions about how to get into the Ministry of Magic. To Muggles, the sign would probably appear differently, as an innocent message about how to cheat your government's tax authority. Elsa had told the truth.

So: Hermione had a new ally and source of information. She was still worried about Luna's failure to visit and whether something had happened to the odd woman, but she was no longer acting in the dark. She felt asleep that night feeling much more optimistic.

That optimism was dashed when she heard the news the next morning. President Parkinson, speaking yesterday evening American time, had announced that security forces had linked the damage to the Golden Gate Bridge to the terrorists that the British were currently investigating. Increased security measures would follow.

Hermione, who knew that "terrorists" was code for "opponents of the dark wizards", didn't dare go home now, either to Britain or the States. Until she could find a suitable weapon, she was stranded in CERN.

TO BE CONTINUED


	22. The Power of Words

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 22 The Power of Words**

"Find out how to stop the Flu Force?" repeated Ramasita. "We have enough trouble trying to start it! More than 1000 euros a shot, and Kohler says some people are starting to complain about that."

Hermione couldn't give her real reason for wanting to know about stopping the Flu Force: that it might be a way of blocking magic. She said, "Our knowledge is limited. We don't know if there is a way that the Flu Force might be self-sustaining. As Sir Arthur Clarke once said, a nineteenth-century chemist would never have known that piling a lot of uranium in one place could cause a chain-reaction and an explosion."

"Um, good point. All right, I'll do research on it. It will mean computer work instead of extensive use of the Collider for a while, and Kohler will like that. There are just a few people left to test—"

"I'll take care of that," Hermione offered hastily.

"Very well, I'll give you the list. I must admit it's gotten boring, with all the negative results, so focussing on computer work would be a welcome change."

All those "negative results" were going to present a worry of their own. Going through a list of people had enabled Hermione to stall, but once they finished the list, Ramasita was going to wonder why Hermione and nobody else responded to the Flu Force, and she was going to have to start manufacturing excuses.

There was a more immediate worry: while running the Large Hadron Collider the next day, it might interpret some stray thought of hers as a command to carry out. She decided to avoid this by coming up with her own command. She put a piece of paper in a cabinet and locked it. Whenever the Collider ran and generated the Flu Force, Hermione meditated on raising the piece of paper, which would be safely out of sight.

At the end of the day she wrote up the list of test subjects, then added the name Elsa Thoven to the list, and reported the tests as all negative. After transmitting the list over Email, she went to visit Elsa's office, on the pretext of discussing the test.

"I've reported that you didn't respond to the Force," she announced. "So you can keep your secret."

"Danke shoen! How can I repay you?"

"Actually, there is a way—"

"Thought so," Else said cynically.

Hermione tried not to let the comment get to her. "There's something I want to know about doing magic. Why does reciting certain words cause a spell to occur? It's the Force that causes magic to work, but no other physical process requires for words to be recited."

"Interesting question. Let me think." She pondered. "Spells don't always require words. Any wizard parents are familiar with the fact that small wizard children can work magic without reciting a spell, or even knowing the words to a spell. So the words may not be necessary."

"I see," Hermione mused. "It's like, when I want to raise my arm, my brain simply sends nerve impulses to my arm to do it. I don't have to think: 'Arm! Raise!' It's pre-verbal."

"That's it. And a child can will an object to rise without thinking 'Wingardium Leviosa'."

"So why use words at all?"

Elsa thought through it again. "Interesting, I've never looked at the question that way. But perhaps a child will map certain words to certain magical impulses. Once they do, the word and impulse are locked together, so that you CAN'T raise an object without thinking 'Wingardium Leviosa'."

"I'll think over that. But there's a related question. I've found I've known the names of certain spells without ever having known them before. "Flu", for example, or the, um, Aveda Kedoodoo phrase, as you called it. Why is that?"

Elsa shrugged. "I've never heard of that phenomenon. I always had to be taught the words."

"So it's unique to me? One other wizard told me that. It's a scary thought." Hermione started to get up, then gripped the desk suddenly.

"Are you all right?" asked Elsa in concern. Clearly her hostility to Hermione had evaporated once Hermione had covered up her being a witch.

"Just dizzy for a moment. Comes with being pregnant, I suppose."

"Let me accompany you. Don't want you fainting in the hallway with nobody around."

"Thank you." But Hermione's mind was more on the workings of magic, and how they could be blocked, than on the moment of vertigo.

o-o-o-o

That night, Hermione had a very vivid dream, one of the most vivid in her life. She was in a castle, and it was partly ruined – though she got the impression was due to recent damage and not long decay. Numerous people were lying on the floor, injured or dead. Those who were still standing were bunched against the walls, leaving the center of the vast hall clear. Two men were circling each other, oddly mismatched. One was a small boy, maybe in his late teens. The other was one of the most repulsive men Hermione had ever seen. He was like an animal in a human robe – or rather, like a human in a robe who regressed to the animal state. He was looking at the boy with hatred, and seemed to be calculating how to attack him. The idea of an animal calculating an attack chilled Hermione.

"Aveda Kedavra!" shouted the subhuman.

Hermione winced; that was the killing spell, and she expected the boy to fall dead. Instead there was an odd whirling feeling, and then the subhuman collapsed.

A few seconds of silence, then an old woman, whom Hermione suddenly recognized as McGonagall, called "You did it, Harry! You killed Voldemort!"

"No," said Harry, "he did it to himself. Just like 17 years ago."

A red-headed boy, apparently a younger Ron Weasley, proclaimed, "And this time, he's not coming back."

"After 7 years, we're free!" called a girl, who seemed to be a teenaged Luna.

A loud cheer arose, so loud that Hermione tried to evade it the only way she could, by waking up.

She was in her own bed in the CERN apartment now. She didn't know exactly what the dream was about, but it seemed very important to her, and she decided to write it down before she forgot any details. Maybe she could ask Luna about it when- or if- she returned.

So she slipped out of bed – and fell to the floor.

"Hermione, what happened?" asked her husband.

"Got dizzy and fell. But I'm OK."

"Hermione, that's not OK." He was getting out on the other side and crossing over. "You're carrying a baby. Have you been dizzy other times today?"

"Er, yes."

"I think we ought to go to the infirmary. Make sure this isn't - " he caught himself before he could utter the terrible word he had in mind, but Hermione could guess what it was. MISCARRIAGE.

The infirmary was open 24-7, though it was down to a single provider in the middle of the night, and others drifted in. One symptom became clear: elevated blood pressure again. Asked if she knew a reason for it, Hermione observed that she had operated the Collider. Privately, she wondered if the Flu Force would have had that effect on all women, or all pregnant women, or whether her body reacted to it in a special way.

The doctors advised her to stay and let herself be monitored until they were sure her baby was OK. Hermione didn't know whether she was being treated with kid gloves because she was a Nobel Prize Winner, but she accepted the advice, merely asking for a pad to write on while she was in bed. She wrote down a description of her dream and gave it to Mark, asking him to keep it a complete secret. She didn't want anybody finding the weird story among her effects if her medical condition got serious. Then she tried falling asleep again.

They hadn't wanted to bother Ramasita during the night, but he came in the morning when he realized Hermione was out. "Hermione, just relax, and don't worry about work. I'll take care of everything. And we need to plan things out so that you don't have to be exposed to whatever the Collider's putting out."

In the meantime, Hermione finally realized what was so important about the dream.

She had figured out some time ago that her odd dreams all seemed to be related to a sort of alternate history of her life, something that would have happened if she had not blocked the plans to send her to that wizard school. Up to now she had interpreted them as a nightmare history where she was deprived of her scientific education, never got the Nobel or other honours, and never met Mark. Yet now the real world was drifting into some sort of crisis, with the wizards of the UK and the States aggrandizing their power on behalf of secret masters, and friends like Luna and Weasley missing or possibly dead, while the alternate history seemed to have freed itself years ago. Or was that just the workings of her brain? Maybe she simply longed for the danger of dark wizards to go away, and the dream of defeating that awful subhuman was simply wish fulfillment.

Toward the end of the day the doctors finally declared that her signs were back to normal and that there was no danger to the baby. She left with relief, and decided to visit Ramasita.

"Ah, I'm delighted you're OK now," her colleague told her. "While you were out, Kohler had me submit a short report for the sponsoring governments, providing justifications for why we're running up costs with the Collider at the moment. Here's a copy."

Hermione looked it over. It was an excellent example of science-for-the-layman, explaining that the Flu Force held immense promise and giving examples of what it could do (though nothing so outré as lifting Hermione into the air or dumping water on her head). Only the Collider could generate the Force at the moment, so the report asked for a temporary raise in funding, which would pay back when they could use the Force for practical applications. It seemed well down.

Then she looked it over again, with growing concern. It mentioned the FLU Force, a term that wizards were familiar with. Malfoy's group already knew that she was a witch, and that she might be investigating how the Force generated magic. But this report revealed, for the first time, that a Muggle could generate the Force and see some of the possibilities. In other words, that the Muggles could be discovering how to duplicate wizards' powers.

Ramasita, without realizing it, had waved a red flag in front of a dangerous animal, and Hermione had helped him.

TO BE CONTINUED.


	23. Reckoning

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 23 Reckoning**

"A delegation?" Hermione repeated.

"From the States," Kohler said. She and Ramasita were in his office. "It seems that the scientists were intrigued by your report, Dr. Ramasita. They want to come see for themselves, and decide whether to help fund the research. Maybe the Americans are finally re-thinking their decision in the 90s."

Hermione knew all about that fiasco in the 90s. US physicists were building a Super-conducting SuperCollider, but they made two fatal errors. First, they let costs overrun projections. Secondly, they did not seem sufficiently concerned about it. So Congress pulled the plug on the project, and leadership on high-energy particle research passed to CERN, in Europe.

Maybe the delegation was the good news that Kohler thought it was. But suppose it was something else-.

0-0-0-0-0

She was still unsure four days later, when the delegation was in Ramasita's office listening to his lecture. She let him do the lecturing, so people wouldn't notice how apprehensive she looked. If asked, she could always blame her silence on morning sickness.

"So who knows about the implications of the research on the Flu Force?" asked the head of the delegation.

"So far, just Professor Granger and myself. I intend to start publishing papers when I have more definite results."

"Thank you, that's just what I wanted to know," said the head. Suddenly he pulled out a wand. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Ramasita fell dead across his desk, an utterly stunned look on his face. The assassin then turned his wand on Hermione, but one of his companions grabbed him first.

"You can't kill her - she's pregnant!"

That gallant impulse may have earned Hermione a few seconds. She dashed out in the hallway and shouted "Help! Murder! Ramasita's dead!"

To her relief, an alarm went off a few seconds later, and then Kohler's voice. "Attention! Everybody go into lockdown. Security to Ramasita's office!" He must have decided that Hermione was trustworthy enough to respond immediately without waiting for confirmation. But what could even the best Security do against magic that they knew nothing about?

Meanwhile, Hermione ran. She had no defense against wizards with her, but her wand was in her room, and that would help at least a little. Fortunately the argument between the assassin and the more civilized assistant seemed to be slowing down the attackers.

Hermione reached her room and locked the door. She picked up her wand out of its hiding place and tried to consider what to do next. Alone, she might have felt like doing something heroic and going out to fight, but she didn't want to risk her baby.

There was a noise outside her door. "Alohamora!" chanted a voice, and Hermione heard the lock of her door click. They could pick locks!

As the attacker charged in, Hermione picked up a heavy piece of bric-a-brac and brought it down on his head. She felt safer relying on the laws of physics regarding collisions, to unfamiliar magic defensive spells.

The now-unconscious attacker was alone, fortunately. But other people might arrive, and know how to get through her locked door. She wasn't safe here.

A wand in the hands of an amateur probably wasn't much help against a group of practiced aggressors. But there was a way to balance the odds. The Large Hadron Collider could produce a Flu Field and magnify her power – if she could reach it.

She dashed through the corridors. They were mostly empty; most of the CERN employees must be sensibly hiding in various rooms. When a man appeared around a corner, she raised her wand, then recognized him.

"Mark! What are you doing here?"

"Came to protect you, of course."

She pulled him into a handy closet, and hugged him. "I'm glad you're here, but I wish you had stayed in lockdown. You don't have either a gun or magical powers."

Mark shook his head. "I need to stand by you, and I still think I can make a difference, Hermione." He pondered. "I noticed while sneaking in, that the invaders look disorganized. I don't think they had a plan B in mind after their attempt to kill you failed."

"I wonder why not?"

"Contempt for Muggle practices, as usual. They probably never heard of Clausevitz, much less read his "On War". They use strategy and tactics formulated in the Renaissance. They may work against other wizards, but not against twenty-first century military experts. That might give us the edge we need."

The couple emerged from the closet and tried rushing through the corridors to the Control Room for the Collider. Then they turned the wrong corner, and Hermione found herself looking at the most repulsive woman she had ever seen. While she normally didn't tend to judge people based on appearance, she got the impression that this woman enjoyed looking intimidating.

"Caught you, Mudblood!" called the hag, grinning in a crazy fasion. "_Avada—"_

Mark threw himself in front of his pregnant wife.

"_Kedavra!"_

Mark crumpled to the flow, and the horrified Hermione knelt over him, knowing that she was exposing herself to another curse, and too stunned to care.

"_Crucio!"_ cried a different female voice.

The ugly woman screamed and went into a wild series of convulsions, finally collapsing on the floor, possibly as dead as her most recent victim. Behind her stood Elsa, with a wand.

"Thought I'd best keep this for emergencies," she said, waving her wand, "and running into Bellatrix Lestrange is definitely an emergency. Run, Hermione! I'll cover you."

Hermione reluctantly abandoned her husband's body and fled. Elsa was right; Hermione not only had her own life to protect, but a baby's as well. Plus, with Ramasita dead, she was the only one who might still know how to devise a defence.

"What did you – to her?" she gasped to Elsa.

"_Crucio_, the torture spell. Ordinarily – just hurts a lot. But Bella's a sadist – all tortures in her imagination probably rebounded against her when the spell hit her, making her die in agony. Couldn't happen to a better person."

They reached the control room door. Not surprisingly, it was locked. Hermione banged on it. "It's me, Hermione Granger! Lemme in!"

The assistants inside opened the door, dragged in Hermione and Elsa, and slammed it again.

"Barricade the door," ordered Hermione. "They know how to get around locks."

The others started moving machinery to block the door. Hermione wished that she could take time out and mourn her loss, but she couldn't afford it. It took everything in her not to just crumple and cry. There was a crisis going on and only she knew the whole story. She entered her password in the main computer, issued the command to start the Large Hadron Collider, then activated the intercom.

"THIS IS HERMIONE GRANGER. I'VE TURNED ON THE COLLIDER. IF YOU TRY TO USE YOUR WANDS NEAR THE FIELD, ALL HELL WILL BREAK LOOSE, AND I HOPE YOU END UP THERE." She didn't know if that danger was true or not, but certainly the dark wizards wouldn't know either, and would play safe by not using magic near this area. That would put them to a disadvantage against the security forces.

But it was only a temporary advantage for Muggles. The wizards would still be in control of the US and UK governments, and could mount more attacks on Muggle technology, unless Hermione could do something about it.

While Elsa awkwardly tried to explain to the technicians what was going on, it occurred to Hermione that there something she could do. It might kill her, and the baby inside her, and might even do some damage to the universe itself. But it would rid the world of the dark wizards, once and for all. Maybe Hermione might have hesitated normally, but not after seeing Ramasita killed for his brilliance, and Mark die protecting her.

She looked at the clock - eight minutes until the Flu Field formed – and planned for the most powerful and fateful spell of her life.

TO BE CONTINUED


	24. The Wheel Has Come Full Circle

**Hermione Granger and the Alternate Universe**

**Chapter 24 The Wheel has Come Full Circle**

_And Lady MacBeth wandered off, wailing "What is done cannot be undone". And I thought, "That's what you think, sister" - Fritz Leiber, NO GREAT MAGIC._

Hermione kept the communicator on so that she could keep track of what was going on. It sounded like the invaders were smashing things up, pretty much at random, in a vague quest to disable CERN from matching their magic powers. It was horrible. Mark – Hermione started crying at the memory – had once commented that something that took centuries to build could be destroyed in an hour. CERN depended on near-unique machinery with incredible precision. If destroyed, they may cost hundreds of millions of euros to rebuild – which meant that they may never get rebuilt, and the barbarians would have won. Hermione wiped away her tears and wondered if she was up to the mission; it was hard to feel optimistic about the result. Fortunately there was somebody she could ask, to confirm her guesses.

"Else, I have two crucial questions. Do you know the name Voldemort?"

"He is the _fuehrer_ of the dark wizards. It is dangerous to even speak his name – but that is OK, because we are in danger already."

"And is there some connection between Voldemort and the legend of the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Supposedly his minions used the stone to revive him in the 1990s, after he had been dormant for more than a decade."

"Thank you." But there was another worry. Hermione knew that the combination of pregnancy, witch power, and the Flu Force raised her blood pressure dangerously. She was willing to take the medical risk, but suppose she was in the middle of her plan, and got too dizzy to carry it out – or even fainted? She needed backup.

"Elsa, I may need your help. I don't have time to explain the plan, but I need to warn you, it's very dangerous."

Elsa hesitated long enough for Hermione to know that she was seriously thinking over the warning. Finally – "I'll trust you."

"All right. Once the Flu Field develops, meditate on the date "11 June, 1991", and grab my arm so that we can Apparate together."

"I'll meditate _in deutsch._ I can probably do it better."

Almost time. Hermione tried to keep grief at bay and meditate on the destination so the Flu Field would pick it up_. 18 o'clock, 11 June, 1991. 18 o'clock, 11 June, 1991- _

The Universe vanished, everything but Elsa, who was grasping Hermione's arm.

Then it reappeared, in the form of a quiet British suburb.

"Did we just travel in time?" asked Elsa, awed.

"I think so. Yes, there's the store that burnt down in 1993. Best of all, it's still daylight, so I've beaten my previous arrival."

"_Bitte?"_

"I've time-travelled here once before, to ensure that I would get a scientific education instead of being sent to Hogwarts. It seemed like the best idea at the time, but now I don't think so. All my life I've dreamed of an alternate universe where I was educated as a witch. I think that universe exists somewhere, and I'm the key to it."

"_Viel egoistisch_," Elsa muttered.

"I know, but I think I know what happened. At one point two schoolboys named Ron Weasley and Harry Potter tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone to keep Voldemort from getting it, but they were blocked by the magic protections. I think if I were there with them, they might have made it, and Voldemort would have stayed dormant for a while. Long enough to make a difference. You see, in my most recent vision, Harry Potter killed Voldemort."

"It is all speculative. Do you think you can change time?"

"I don't know. I was hoping to research the matter, but I never had time. We'll be working in the dark, in a double sense."

They waited. Hermione carefully positioned herself so that when her earlier self materialized, she would be standing nearby but behind her out of sight.

Suddenly the earlier Hermione materialized, and promptly fell on her posterior. The older Hermione winced, having forgotten that detail.

She got out her wand, but was intimidated by the sheer perversity of the situation. Attack herself, when there was no memory of the attack in her own past?

"_Stupefy!"_ called Elsa, and the earlier Hermione, trying to get back to her feet, went slack.

"Thank you, I think," said Hermione, still thinking that this situation was too weird. "Now let's get her – me – out of the way before somebody sees us and calls Scotland Yard. Those bushes over there."

She picked her former self up by the arms while Elsa took the feet. Irrevelantly, she found herself thinking _Is that what my hair really looks like in back?_

The three ended up in the bushes. "Now what?" asked Elsa.

"We let McGonagall talk my Mum into sending me to Hogwarts. Then I'll be in the right place to help Harry Potter eliminate Voldemort."

"Then what?"

"Within a few minutes the three of us will return to 2012. But I don't know what timeline."

Elsa went pale as she realized the implications. Meanwhile McGonagall came to the door and was admitted. Hermione spoke again when the teacher was out of earshot.

"It could be that we appear in the new timeline, with Voldemort and his minions gone. Or it could be that our own timeline still exists on a sort of parallel track, and we can still go back to there. Or it could be that our own timeline no longer exists, in which case -"

"We may no longer exist," finished Elsa.

"Yes. And I'll have eliminated not only myself, but my poor baby. I SAID this was dangerous."

Elsa thought about it. "My _mutter_ was religious in a way, and told me that even if I died, my soul would survive. But if my very history was erased-?"

"I don't know." Hermione waited, and added reluctantly, "you can prevent it, you know. Go in and convince my mother to let me go to Muggle school."

Elsa settled back, looking worried, but did not cry out.

Hermione sat, and waited, and watched, and tried not to break down in tears at her loss. A few minutes and this would be over, one way or another -

0-0-0-0

Minnie Granger had spent the night with a school friend. The friend's Mum dropped her by her house the next day. Getting out of the car, she was surprised to see the shrubbery messed up, as if somebody had been hiding there.

She went to look at the area. All she could see was a piece of notebook paper, with three mysterious words written on it.

She unlocked the front door and walked in. "I'm home, Mum."

"That's good, Minnie. Because there's something we need to talk about. We've received an offer from a very unusual school. But what's that paper you're holding?

Minnie looked down again at the paper, with the odd words:

_Find HARRY POTTER._

THE END

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The epilogue on the chapter is from Fritz Leiber's CHANGE WAR series, which in my opinion is one of the cleverest set of time-travel stories ever written.)_


End file.
